A Role Model For Peggy
by Nyx6
Summary: After Laura's death and desperate for a new mother figure, Peggy attaches herself to an unlikely role model. Causing all sorts of danger and headaches for both her, Adam and the family. Fluff with substance! Posted as a whole.


Okay, so this one needs a little bit of explaining before anyone starts. It was originally written as the sequel to a story I was _planning_ to write whereby the outgoing Laura and Will end up in a carriage accident and only little Peggy survives. While waiting for her great aunt to be informed she lodges with the Cartwright's and then wants to stay with them permanently. Only this 'sequel' idea struck me harder and so I thought I'd write them in reverse order. Of course, life interjected and in the end I never wrote the first one so you'll just have to pretend I did…um…that make sense? Anyway, enjoy and as ever please excuse the mistakes!

….

**Chapter One.**

Morgan Adler burst backwards through the batwing doors like he'd been fired from a cannon. Not so much forced as bodily propelled from the saloon, easily clearing the several feet of boardwalk before landing – backside first – with a thud on the dusty street beyond. He found his feet again in the time it took passers by to realise what had happened, watching as he paused momentarily to straighten his hat before charging back into the affray once more.

Arriving in town with Peggy to collect the weekly supplies, Hoss and Joe had chosen to separate, each with half-a-list and the intention of reconvening in time to be home for lunch. It was a side of the bargain that Hoss at least had kept to, he and Peggy having ticked their items off one by one and loaded them onto the wagon. They had even had time to buy some confectionary before heading off to meet Little Joe as arranged; it was one of the reasons Hoss so enjoyed shopping with Peggy, the pretence that buying candy was a treat for her rather than himself. Not that the little girl's company wasn't a continued pleasure too of course, it was, naturally, and glancing down he watched her scuttle along beside him, one hand digging eagerly into the little brown paper bag, the sight making him smile benevolently. Adam sure had done wonders with the frightened, angry little girl who'd come to live with them just a few short months ago.

Catching him gazing down at her, Peggy offered the crumpled bag upwards,

"You want one Hoss?"

"No, no honey," came the reply, quick with valour, "I bought them for you," when the bag failed to move however his resolve promptly failed him, "Well, all right, maybe just one of them pink ones…"

It was Morgan Adler's second airborne exit from the saloon that caught the pair's attention, both watching open-mouthed as the tall willowy figure sailed backwards through the air like an ungainly bird, followed in a drunken stumble by a much-more bulky compatriot, who, tripping over an evidently precarious patch of nothing, promptly landed on top of him in a clumsy tangle of limbs. Their performance was met with overwhelming silence, well, almost;

"What happened to them Hoss?"

"Huh?"

Staring at the awkward tangle it took Hoss a second to remember that Peggy was still standing beside him, eyes similarly fixed on the by-now drunkenly cursing duo and wide with amazement.

"What are they doing on the ground?"

"Uh…" her innocent-sounding question spurring him into action, Hoss quickly bent down to take hold of the little girl's shoulders, wheeling her away from the sight with sudden haste and a vague-at-best explanation, "They's just fooling around some Peg,"

"Oh."

As they turned to leave however a familiar burst of laughter caught both their attentions once more, Peggy going again forgotten as Hoss spun back in the direction of the saloon just in time to catch somebody else stroll cockily out of it.

"Dadburnit!"

Little Joe – he might have known.

Before them, Morgan and Harry Adler were still desperately trying to extract themselves, the cursing picking up a notch as they spotted the evident cause of their humiliation standing on the boardwalk laughing fit to burst,

"You fellers sure ought to see yourselves!" Joe crowed gleefully above them, the smile widening as he suddenly caught sight of his older brother, "Hey Hoss! Look who I ran into at the bar!"

Hoss didn't share the amusement,

"Little Joe – ,"

But neither of them got any further, a third figure promptly bursting through the batwings in an animalistic lunge and tackling the youngest Cartwright to the ground as he did, stalling the conversation. They'd forgotten the third Adler brother.

As the fight abruptly reignited around them, Hoss joined the fray with instinctive and unthinking enthusiasm, hauling Francis Adler roughly from the top of his younger brother and receiving only a jab in the kidneys for his trouble as behind him Harry and Morgan finally managed to haul themselves to their feet. From there on in the scene was one of carnage, a mass of flying punches and glancing blows accompanied by the gentle melody of pain-filled grunts and knuckle striking bone.

Outnumbering their opponents three to two, the outcome of the scrap would have appeared to be a foregone conclusion, with the victory expected squarely in the Adler's favour. However that never quite proved the case when the Cartwrights were involved – particularly not when the youngest fought like a caged lion and the biggest like a grizzly. The division of labour therefore was a straightforward one; Joe went one-on-one with Francis, while Hoss dealt with Harry and Morgan, both of them the worse-for-wear for alcohol and somewhat sluggish as a result. To this end his bout proved a fairly straightforward case of ducking and jabbing, allowing him to develop an almost rhythmic quality before getting the better of them altogether. Nor did Little Joe's fight last much longer, Hoss just in the process of dumping Harry and Morgan simultaneously into the horse trough when Francis careered past reeling from a slug to the jaw and beat his brothers to it with a resounding splash.

Standing back to admire their sodden handiwork, Hoss and Little Joe grinned through their breathlessness, exchanging a self-satisfied handshake as the surge of adrenaline began to wane. Hoss dusted himself down absently,

"That was some good fightin' there little brother,"

"Likewise older brother."

Their smug congratulations however didn't last long, as, turning back in the direction of the wagon their attentions were abruptly caught by a familiar-looking moustached figure wearing a frown and a five-sided badge and the small blonde beside him, eyes wide in disbelief, candy all but forgotten. Sheriff Coffee and Peggy.

"Oh, uh, howdy Roy…" Hoss began, quickly tailing off as words failed him and hoping against hope that Little Joe would prove more articulate. He didn't.

"P-Peggy, now, what you saw there…what Hoss and I were – were doing…uh…"

Folding his arms across his chest and quirking an impatient eyebrow, Roy lifted his head expectantly,

"Well boys?"

There were no words with which to reply. None. Except maybe one Hoss thought, looking up at the lawman with a newly hopeful smile and suddenly gesturing in Peggy's direction.

"Candy?"

Roy glared back at him stonily. He did not want candy. They were still in trouble.

….

**Chapter Two.**

For different members of the Cartwright brood, the Virginia City schoolhouse carried different sets of memories; for Hoss the little structure had briefly been the sight of some of his most diligent work, a place from which he carried nothing but fond memories both of his fellow pupils and the little elderly spinster who'd been their indulgent teacher. Little Joe's memories on the other hand – and more than likely those of the several harangued educators who'd attempted to tackle his 'energetic' peer group over the years – were strikingly different. Hardly a day had gone by in which young Joseph Cartwright had not been in midst of some prank or classroom disruption, the charges ranging from the mild – a frog in one of the girl's desks – to the outrageous – trying to use fireworks to frighten the teacher and instead managing to blow the doors off the hinges and the glass from every last window.

Adam on the other hand had vastly different recollections of the little painted building, his education largely having been obtained on the road, and then from a private tutor at great – but seemingly worthwhile – expense. As a result, Adam's memories largely involved turning up to beg articulately on his youngest brother's behalf, or collect him after his having been sent home in disgrace. Many a time had he dropped off and collected Little Joe or Hoss, the routine having been a fixture in his day for so long that it's eventual termination with Joe's final day had seemed strange. What he hadn't been expecting was his one day having to start all over again.

Peggy was sitting on the little whitewashed steps as he rode up, the drill the same as always except that rather than springing up to meet him as usual, she continued to sit with her head in hands and a glum expression on her face. Frowning instinctively Adam dismounted in a single fluid motion, crossing the several steps towards her in a single stride and glancing down at his little charge in evident concern,

"Peg? What's wrong?"

Rather than answer she instead refused to meet his gaze, the action suddenly seeming more hesitant than defiant. Instead she moved a tentative finger to toy absently with an increasingly threadbare patch of denim at the knee of her jeans, her eyes flickering upwards momentarily as if debating the various merits of speech. Apparently, silence was still the best option.

"Mr. Cartwright?" turning towards the doors of the schoolhouse, Adam followed the new voice towards the rounded features of Hilda Swift, Virginia City's newest educationalist and – subsequently – Peggy's teacher, who had come to join them out on the steps with a kindly yet business-like smile on her face, "I wonder if I might have a word in private."

She'd disappeared back inside before Adam had even had time to blink, giving him little option but to follow, casting one final look back at Peggy who was still not returning his gaze.

Removing his hat as he stepped inside, he found Hilda all ready reinstalled behind her desk, fingers laced before her and the misleading smile still spread disarmingly wide across her features.

"Miss Swift?"

"Please, take a seat."

He did as he was told.

"What's all this about?"

"Peggy was involved in a fight today," Miss. Swift replied bluntly, giving him his wish and getting straight to the point – no nonsense. Adam blinked back at her in astonishment,

"A _fight_?"

A short nod met his incredulous echo,

"With two young men by the names of Matthew Steers and Edward Garvey,"

Adam still wasn't following.

"A fight? A fight with boys?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Was she hurt?" he countered quickly, startling himself by how much he sounded like his own father. Miss. Swift shook her head, her expression remaining mild despite the sentiments,

"No, no, quite the opposite. In fact she gave Matthew Steers a bloody nose and Edward what I expect to be quite the shiner come tomorrow morning," for a second Adam merely blinked, the intricacies of forming a spoken response briefly leaving him. Seeing his incredulity, Miss Swift instead continued, "Now, I know how difficult these last few months have been for Peggy. We all do. Nor am I saying she wasn't provoked – in fact knowing the boys as I do, I'd say she almost certainly was. But we cannot have that sort of violence in the schoolyard, as I'm sure you'll agree?" Adam nodded bleakly, "Good, then I doubt the issue needs to be taken any further – the boys are pretty embarrassed, so I'm not sure it will ever reach their parents. I trust however that you'll be having a word with Peggy?"

Snorting suddenly – his disbelief fast being replaced with a hot kind of anger – Adam stood abruptly,

"Oh we'll have words all right," he replied, tone frosty with implication as he replaced his hat and strode towards the door, "Thank you Miss. Swift."

The schoolteacher nodded a prim parting,

"Mr. Cartwright."

Peggy had moved to stand dutifully beside Adam's horse as he ducked back out into the schoolyard, one little hand scratching the nose as the chestnut's head snuffled the other docilely. Her head dropped instantly as Adam stalked up beside her, obviously knowing she'd done wrong – which was a start at least. Despite it, Adam's mood still teetered somewhere around furious.

"Peggy," he began in short tones, watching her flinch at the sharpness, "We're going home."

"Adam – ,"

He cut her off with one hand, lifting her up and placing her firmly on the saddle before moving to mount up himself. He was furious, but strangely at himself more than the child in front of him. After all, wasn't he the one supposed to be guiding her? Didn't her actions reflect as badly on him as anyone? He dreaded to think what Laura would have made of it all, the reflection lowering his tone further,

"We'll talk about it later."

"Are you mad at me?" she asked quietly, sounding worried, heart-broken even. Adam however, was in no mood to dispel her fears, not when he couldn't even allay his own.

"No," he replied eventually, softening his tone a little as he sighed, preparing himself for the one phrase that he knew from experience hurt more than any other, "But I'm disappointed Peggy. I'm very disappointed."

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

….

**Chapter Three.**

When Peggy had first come to stay at the Ponderosa, her room had been the same as all of theirs; practical, if not a little drab. With her long-stay status confirmed however, an enthusiastic redecoration had followed transforming it into as bright and comfortable a-space as any little girl could have wished for. The shelves positively groaned under the weight of more toys and books than could be read or tended to in a lifetime, but – as either gifts from her parents or more recent offerings from well-wishers – all remained individually priceless.

It was amidst this myriad of belongings that Adam found her, sitting cross-legged on the thick patchwork quilt that covered her bed, redressing one of her dolls yet looking decidedly absent from the proceedings. It was the mood she'd been in ever since they'd arrived back from school, having taken herself softly off into the barn to tend to Traveller for most of the afternoon before sitting unusually downcast and silent at the dinner table. With Hoss and Joe away for the night, it had seemed quieter than ever.

"Peggy?"

He was all ready across the threshold when he knocked, the gesture only a cursory one as he crossed the room, watching the little girl's eyes widen in uncertainty before dropping down to focus ever more intently on the doll before her. Taking a seat in the chair by the window, Adam tried again,

"Peg?"

This time her eyes met his.

"You're going to punish me, aren't you?"

It was a small yet soulful query, dutifully undershot with the necessary tones of regret, yet at the same time infused with a strange degree of what sounded like resignation. Masking his curiosity Adam kept his expression neutral,

"Why do you say that?"

She blinked back at him briefly before dropping her gaze once more, the answer clearly obvious but suddenly tempered by a whispered-sort of reverence for the dearly departed it duly contained.

"Because that's what my daddy used to do."

As fleeting alarm washed over him Adam stiffened on instinct,

"He punished you?" A tiny nod returned the query, "Peggy? _How_ did he punish you?"

Glancing up towards him once more the little girl thought for a moment before lifting up a tentative outstretched hand, doleful eyes boring a hole into his,

"With his hand, or sometimes his belt,"

It was an answer that drew an involuntary hitch of rage.

"He hit you?"

Peggy nodded back compliantly.

"Uh huh."

Since Frank Dayton's untimely death, Adam had found out more than he'd ever needed to know about one of Virginia City's seemingly more stand-up citizens. He'd always been something of a brash, confident sort of man – jack of all trades, master of none and involved in so many constantly changing, constantly _losing_ ventures and enterprises that keeping track of his fortunes during any given month had always proved vaguely impossible. Nor did it seem he made-up for his lack of business prowess by being a model husband; cruel – if Laura's story was anything to go by – as he was unfaithful. The one thing Adam had never had cause to doubt however had been Frank's love for Peggy. It had been self-evident. Adam could still remember the delight on the man's face as he had rode by over a year ago to the news that his daughter was waiting dutifully for him just a short distance away. Nor had Peggy's fierce initial loyalty to her father given him any cause to doubt their relationship. Not even Laura – who had precious little else positive to offer in Frank's favour – had ever faulted his parenting. Even here however, it seemed that Frank Dayton had fallen far short of the mark as far as Adam was concerned, the sudden thought of anyone's putting hands on Peggy sending a forceful wave of protectiveness through his entire body – father or otherwise, frequently, rarely or ever. It replaced the anger he felt towards her almost instantly and un-hunching his position a little in realisation of the fact, he instead beckoned her closer with a smile,

"Come here."

Peggy moved reluctantly in response, sliding uncertainly from the bed before coming to a halt beside it, idly circling a patch on the quilt with her pinkie finger as she gazed up at him from underneath wispy blonde bangs. Adam read her fears instinctively,

"I think we've had enough violence for one day, don't you?" she followed his meaning at once, a wide smile crossing her face as she suddenly sped across the distance between them and let him pull her up onto the arm of the chair so that her feet came to a rest in his lap, one arm wound behind her to secure her in place, "Now, I think it's time you told me what happened at school today."

"I hit Mattie and Edward."

_Ask a stupid question..._

"Yes," Adam responded heavily in gently sarcastic tones, "That part I already know. _Now_ I want to know why you hit them."

Peggy's head dropped at once,

"Oh."

"Oh?"

Evidently the issue was not as straightforward as Adam had been expecting, nor was the answer.

"They were talking about…they were talking about – ,"

"Your mother."

He didn't need her accompanying nod to know he was right.

"They said she wasn't in heaven because she'd been running away with a man she weren't married to."

"_Wasn't _married to," Adam corrected absently, his grammatical adjustment proving the outlet of his internal contemplation.

"Wasn't," Peggy amended obediently, before picking up much where she'd left off, "So I hit them. I'm sorry Adam, I know I shouldn't have done it – and I'll never do it again, honest!"

"I'm glad to hear it," Adam retorted evenly, "You know violence isn't the answer."

"But Hoss and Little Joe – ," whatever Peggy was going to say broke off abruptly, the little girl instead biting down hard on her lip and watching as Adam's eyes narrowed in instant and unshakable suspicion. His tone promptly hardened too,

"Hoss and Little Joe, what?"

Suddenly Peggy appeared to be squirming beside him,

"I promised…"

If there had been actual alarm bells in Adam's head they would have been sounding loud enough for the entire territory to pick up, as it were the metaphorical ones were doing a good job on their own.

"Peggy," he wasn't fooling around any more, "_What_ did Hoss and Little Joe do?"

"They fighted the Adler brothers in town last week."

"_Fought_," Pause, focus, "They what?"

"Little Joe said they were asking for it."

Stifling a groan Adam dropped his head heavily into one hand. His brothers; he should have guessed. There he was trying his hardest to second-guess the wishes of a woman he had once loved and nurse a bereaved, bewildered little girl in spite of his own grief, and in one afternoon his blundering and hot-headed younger siblings had undone months of progress – and damaged her previously unblemished school record in the process. He was going to kill them. He was going to have to. Although these were thoughts he decided it best not to share under the circumstances.

"Peggy," he began instead with a somewhat weary sigh, "Nobody _asks _to be hit – not the Adler's, and certainly not Matthew Steers or Edward Garvey. The next time somebody says something to you about your mother, I expect you to go to Miss. Swift or to tell me, do you understand? Do not, ever, copy Hoss or Little Joe."

Which he considered sound advice on several fronts. Peggy merely nodded compliantly,

"Okay."

Apparently the lecture was over,

"Good. Now…" suddenly swinging both arms around her, Adam stood from the chair lifting Peggy upside down and listening to her giggle as she dangled earthwards, "Time for bed."

He deposited her in a carefully aimed drop, watching her plunge down onto the springs with a bounce. At some point after dinner she had taken the liberty of changing herself for bed without even needing to be asked – or badgered as was the case most evenings – clearly having decided that being as little trouble as possible would be the best way to avoid punishment. In many ways it had worked.

Taking a seat beside her on the soft mattress, Adam watched as Peggy made herself comfy beneath the covers, selecting one well-worn doll from the little line flanking the foot of bed to tuck under the sheets beside her, the two of them pressed side-by-side against the pillow. Adam smiled,

"Goodnight Peg."

"Goodnight Adam – oh, and Adam?"

At the sound of her voice, he paused at the door, turning to look at her lying so small beneath her quilt.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are," he replied gently, before stepping out into the corridor and closing the door behind him, one prevalent thought running through his mind.

…_but not half as sorry as Hoss and Little Joe are going to be. _

….

**Chapter Four. **

Even had his younger sons been present, dinner would still have struck Ben Cartwright as a somewhat sombre affair – which was perhaps, putting it mildly. Peggy certainly had been in no mood for talking, simply sitting with her head resting in one hand and the other pushing her fork distractedly around her plate. The mood had fallen even further on Adam's gentle but stern reminder about elbows at the table.

The discontent had been evident ever since the pair had arrived home, although for better or for worse Ben had chosen not to get involved, his one baffled query as Peggy had silently scurried for the barn being met only with a flicker of irritation from his eldest son and a groaned, '_don't ask_,' which he had chosen to follow. He had known Adam would confide in him eventually – he always did – and, as he plodded heavily down the stairs and towards his father's desk with a weary sigh, Ben knew his moment for enlightenment had arrived, putting down his pen and pushing aside the figures he'd been working on to instead look up expectantly,

"Everything all right?"

Judging from the way Adam came to a somewhat dejected rest against the bureau, the answer was no.

"I'm not sure I can do this Pa."

"Do what?"

"_This_," replied Adam, gesturing emphatically at the ceiling and the unspoken figure that lay upstairs before dropping his head into his hands and attempting to rub away the sudden itch of exhaustion, "I mean I don't have the first idea what I'm doing."

"Welcome to parenthood," Ben replied humorously although the tone was undershot with the deep compassion he felt. Adam had always been hard on himself; always expected to be perfect, in control and ordered. Unfortunately for his eldest however, life often conspired against such aims as Ben knew better than most. He also knew a thing or two about raising children single-handed, and, seeing that his son needed more than flippancy to dispel his mood this time, he smiled gently "Adam, raising a child is no easy process, there is no right or wrong way of doing something, it's all about learning. The truth is I never knew whether I was doing right by you boys or not. I just had to hope I was."

The revelation obviously came as news to Adam, the eldest's head jerking upwards and curious brows knitting in his father's direction,

"_You_ had doubts?"

"Naturally. Raising three boys wasn't always exactly a picnic."

"I know," Adam replied flatly, a semi-amused brow raising in response, "I helped with two of them remember?"

Ben smiled back,

"I remember."

However the retrospective seemed to add only another dimension of poignancy to Adam's suddenly wry sense of failure.

"Somehow it just seemed easier with Hoss and Little Joe – at least when they got into a fight I knew what to do."

"A fight?" Ben frowned, picking up the word instantly as it floated by with almost deliberate nonchalance, "What about a fight?"

"Peggy was involved in one today at school. In fact I think she started it."

"_Peggy_?!"

Seeing his father's confusion and recognising it as mirroring his own as he'd sat opposite Miss. Swift, Adam nodded resignedly,

"With Mattie Steers and the Garvey's son."

"With_ boys_?" Ben spluttered back in surprise, "Now why in the world would she do a thing like that?!"

"They said some things about Laura, about her leaving with Will – ," at the mention of Adam's former fiancée the mood briefly darkened, each man lapsing into something of a respectful silence before the younger belatedly realised the primary reason for his growing headache, "Oh, and then there's the other reason that Peggy thought it would be best to start a brawl rather than tell Miss. Swift,"

Hearing the tone slide abruptly from reverent to indignant, Ben lifted his gaze curiously,

"What was that?"

Adam took a deep breath,

"Apparently," he began with a disarming smile before rising into a semi-shout, "It's what dear, sweet Uncle Hoss and good, dependable Little Joe did to the Adler boys in town last week!"

"They did _what_?!"

Adam merely nodded,

"According to Peggy they were 'asking for it' – sound familiar?"

Ben groaned,

"Joseph,"

"The one and only."

"Have either boys parent's complained?"

"No," Adam replied solemnly, "Evidently they were both pretty embarrassed about being beaten up by a girl. Miss. Swift doubts they'll tell anyone let alone their parents," as the badly-concealed sounds of chuckling trickled out from behind the desk Adam narrowed his eyes sharply, "It's not funny Pa."

A hasty throat-clear followed, the response not utterly contrite but the best Adam figured he was going to get under the circumstances.

"You're right. I'm sorry," seeing his son's hopelessness however he tried harder, "But Adam you've got to remember that Peggy's suffered a great loss. It's going to take time and a great deal of patience for her to come to terms with that and until she does she may…act out,"

"I understand that as well as you do," Adam stressed quickly in response and with a flicker of temper. They both knew he did, over his lost mothers as much for Laura herself, "But I can't allow her to pick fights with other children – I don't know, sometimes I think maybe she doesn't have enough female contact anymore,"

"Adam – ,"

"I know Pa, that's the choice we made. But she's only been living here for five months and already she's turning into Hoss and Little Joe."

Despite himself, and despite knowing that his son would never knowingly malign his own brothers Ben still bristled instinctively,

"And what's wrong with Hoss and Little Joe?" he retorted sharply, drawing a look of incredulity,

"They're not girls Pa!"

It was a valid point.

"Well, no but – look Adam, don't you think that you're maybe reading too much in all of this? I mean, Peggy certainly seemed sorry enough this evening. Has she apologised for what she did?"

The dark head nodded confirmation,

"Yes."

"Well then," Ben smiled back, "There's no reason to believe that she'll do it again. Children make mistakes, it's our job to see they learn from them."

As his brow rose in contradiction, Adam shot his father a doubtful sideways look,

"This wasn't a mistake Pa, it _was_ something she'd learnt – from your sons."

"Yes, well," his expression clouding over abruptly Ben involuntarily tightened a fist, "Leave your brothers to me, I've plenty of unpleasant jobs they can do around here when they get back – see Adam? You're never to old to learn from your mistakes."

Adam snorted in response,

"I hope you're right."

"You just wait and see," Ben replied quickly, pausing suddenly before looking up to stare across at his still sombre-looking eldest, "And in the meantime stop being so hard on yourself because it won't do anyone any good; not you, and certainly not Peggy. You've done a wonderful thing for that child Adam, and truthfully, I don't know if it will ever get easier, but I will tell you something I _do_ know, and that is if that little girl loves you even half much as you love her, then I don't think there's anything else you need to do, much less anything else you can do," watching as Adam quirked his head round to meet his father's gaze with pleasant surprise Ben smiled back, letting loose the sudden swell of fierce admiration building in his breast, "I'm proud of you."

And, although it wasn't a solution, it helped. It helped a lot.

"Thanks Pa."

What did he really need to worry about? Hadn't he always had the best role model standing right in front of him?

"Anytime son."

He certainly had.

….

**Chapter Five.**

Peggy had been waiting for Little Joe the first time she saw Georgette; she and Jenny Baker sitting by the schoolhouse, books stacked beside them on the steps, feet grinding idle shapes into the dirt as they waited to be collected, little Valerie Baker doing somersaults over the railings behind them like a bored chimpanzee at the circus, their older brother nowhere in sight. Glancing up out onto the main street beyond, it had been Peggy who had spotted her first, eyes drawn to the crop of flame-red hair and then held firm by the green bejewelled dress below. Georgette caught the sun like million diamonds, her elegant and deliberate stride accentuated by the casual hand she'd draped against one hip, the other swinging loosely by her side. A tall feather jutted abruptly from her carefully piled hair, the fronds waving gently in the breeze and the fierce clash of red and green only highlighting the low cut of the dress and the generous show of skin both above and below its neck and hem lines. Georgette Riley might have known what she was, and the good people of Virginia City might have known what she was, but to a naïve little girl with a love of fairy stories and brightly illustrated picture books she looked like a Princess, and at once Peggy's mouth dropped open in awe.

"Who's that?" she breathed in astonishment, catching Jenny's attention and shifting both girls gazes out beyond the safe confines of the little schoolyard. Jenny's nose turned up at once,

"That's Georgette."

_Georgette_. Even the name sounded magical.

"She's beautiful."

Jenny was not so impressed, her tone taking on an air of haughty superiority,

"My mamma says women like her shouldn't be allowed in good society,"

"Why not?" asked Peggy with a frown of genuine confusion, figuring both that someone as fancy as Georgette should naturally be at the top of any social tier, and also that her own mother never would have said something so mean about someone else. It struck her suddenly with a sharp pang of grief.

"It's a'cos she's not a proper lady," Valerie spoke up behind them from where she hung upside down, brown ringlets dangling earthbound and her chubby little face fast turning an alarming shade of puce. Jenny turned to look at her authoritatively,

"You get down from there before you hurt yourself," she commanded hotly before turning back to recompose her parentally-influenced condescension, "Mamma says she does things decent women wouldn't dream of."

"Like what?"

It was a question that momentarily stumped Jenny, who paused briefly before answering with a shrug,

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it ain't right."

And that, apparently, was that. Still twirling with an alarming disregard for gravity behind them however, Valerie Baker saw something that the older girls had missed, their eyes drawn by their continued – and separate – observations of the glamorous saloon girl. Another figure was pounding up the street towards them, pale hat firmly in place, pinto striking a solid rhythm on the ground,

"Here comes Lil' Joe Peggy,"

Only Little Joe did not ride straight over to the schoolhouse as expected, suddenly drawing the familiar black and white paint to a halt beside the figure that had commanded so much of the girls' attention. Seeing him coming Georgette paused halfway across the street, instantly striking a confident pose and turning to peer up at the young man before her with a beguiling smile – her business-face fully in place.

"Little Joe," she drawled with an exaggerated eyelash flicker, heaving a deep breath and watching his gaze drift momentarily south of her expression,

"Uh, afternoon Georgette…" he took a second to re-centre himself, "…not seen you in town for a while. You been visiting?"

It was an angle she decided to play regardless,

"My, aren't you sweet for asking? I was takin' care of my poor sick lil' old grandma back in San Francisco, dear thing. Missed you boys all sumthin' fierce though," she lilted back casually, accentuating her twang with what she knew from experience came across as wide-eyed naivety. Joe's own smile grew predictably in response,

"Yeah?"

"Well sure honey," she continued smoothly, "How about you come buy me a drink right now and we catch up some,"

It was a seductive offer all right, but belatedly Joe remembered his reason for being in town.

"Sorry Georgette, I'm here to pick up Peggy from school."

"Oh," the disappointment was unmistakeable, and, as the youngest Cartwright gestured vaguely in the direction of the school building, the flame-haired temptress turned absently to look, momentarily locking eyes with the small blonde figure beyond and completely missing the effect the seconds-worth of contact had on the youngster as she turned back indifferently, "Well, you make sure you come find me real soon now, y'hear?"

Touching the brim of his hat and smiling widely, Joe wheeling Cochise in the direction of the school and tapped gently at the horse's flanks,

"Yes ma'am."

Since returning home from the short cattle drive with Hoss the week before, Little Joe and his elder brother had been consigned to some of the most adverse and mind-numbing jobs in the history of chore-delegation – and not without good reason. Evidently his and Hoss' little performance with the Adlers had had quite an undesirable effect on Peggy, the story of her altercation with Mattie Steers and Edward Garvey having been so implicitly described to them as to render them virtual witnesses, and their resulting guilt – not to mention their having convinced Peggy to keep quiet about it – having been punished harshly if not undeniably fairly. Riding into town to collect the little girl from school had been the first time Little Joe had been allowed off the Ponderosa since, and seeing Georgette had made it all the more worthwhile.

"Hey Peggy," he greeted as he swung down from Cochise, vaguely noting the astonishment on her face but not registering it as he nodded a customary greeting to the girls alongside, "Jenny, Valerie,"

"Hi Lil' Joe!" the youngest sang from where she was suspended breathlessly from the vertical rung of the railings. Smiling Joe turned back to Peggy,

"Ready to go home?"

She nodded quickly, scrabbling to collect her books before turning to wave goodbye to Jenny. Joe was already re-mounted by the time she reached him, letting him bend down to take her various belongings before hauling her up into place and juggling them back to her, marvelling as he did at just how he'd managed to go so many years at school with so few textbooks to his name; most of them either languishing scattered around the territory, at the bottom of ponds, streams and lakes or else still clinging as hard little spit-balls from the schoolroom ceiling. With a final nod to the passing figure of Marcus Baker trudging dejectedly to collect his younger sisters, he spurred the pinto homewards.

"Joe?"

It was a fair distance before Peggy spoke up with a hint of curiosity to her tone, having deflected his standard questions about the agreeableness of her day with cursory answers until she could let loose with a burning one of her own.

"Who was that lady you were talking to in town before?"

"Lady?" replied Joe with a frown before blinking in surprise, "Georgette?"

Peggy nodded,

"What does she do?"

Joe swallowed briefly. _Oh dear_.

"Well…she….keeps people company,"

"How?"

"Uh…she, has a drink with them, or talks to them…plays cards with them…"

Under the sudden questioning, Joe felt himself flush, almost as if the little girl might peer into his head get hold of his memories and end up scarred for life. He could just imagine Adam's reaction if he let too much slip, and so was desperately trying to balance an appropriate answer with an informative one. If Peggy noticed his awkward fumbling over the words however, then she didn't mention it.

"Why does she do that?"

"Well, if someone's new in town and doesn't know anyone…or, or if they've been out on the trail for a long time – she…she's just a friendly face for them."

"Oh," a short pause followed the noise, whereby Peggy seemed to be studying the answer closely giving Joe an agonisingly long time to re-consider it, "I think she's beautiful."

Suddenly he was off the hook.

"So do I."

"Does Adam know her?"

"Not as well as I do."

Peggy frowned hard in contemplation,

"Does he like her?"

"I don't know," Joe replied evenly, "Why don't you ask him?"

Suddenly the little blonde locks were shaking quickly in front of him,

"Adam's mad at me," she replied sadly, earning herself a reassuring squeeze from behind and a confident-sounding rebuttal,

"No, Adam's not mad at you Peggy. He's angry at me and Hoss for putting you in harm's way – and he's right too. Trust me Peg, I know my older brother, he only gets angry because he cares about you and he doesn't want you to get hurt."

"But I disappointed him."

Joe snorted derisively, the rejoinder conjuring up memories of the numerous discrepancies that had once plagued his childhood yet had long since passed into fond family folklore.

"When I was younger I disappointed him and Pa all the time,"

Peggy turned to look at him surprise,

"You did?"

"Oh sure," he replied almost dismissively, "Almost daily, 'specially at school. But it didn't change anything. If I ever had a question – any question at all – I always knew Adam would take the time to explain it to me. You should try him, he's good at listening."

Sitting back against him with a sudden smile, Peggy decided to do exactly that, an idea that had been forming in her mind taking seed in a growing bubble of excitement as her every thought began to rotate slowly around the mesmerizing red-head who'd changed her horizons in a matter of moments.

That morning the greatest influences in her little world had been Adam and the assembled Cartwright family. From there on in it was one person and one person only; Georgette Riley.

….

**Chapter Six.**

There was nothing unusual about Peggy playing with her dolls – she did it frequently, nor did she often travel very far without one tucked under her arm, a habit which had become more pronounced since Laura's death. What was unusual however, and what Adam spotted as soon as he walked into the front room, was the placement dolls, not sitting in their ordinary semi-circle around her, but instead seated separately at little intervals; one perched on the fireplace, one on the chequers board, another in the armchair and two at the low table being manipulated and in seemingly imaginatively detailed conversation by Peggy.

Taking off his hat and frowning a little in fond confusion, Adam crossed the room to perch on the arm of the chair and gaze down quizzically at his young charge,

"Well what have we here?" he asked casually, taking in the fractured gathering with a smile, "Trouble at the tea party?"

"No," Peggy replied simply, not registering the veiled tease and instead taking the query at face value, "We're not having a tea party."

"Oh, then what are you having?"

Standing up suddenly, pulling her favourite doll with her, Peggy began to pluck at the seams of the little figure's dress absently,

"Susan is being a friendly face."

Surprised and baffled by the answer all in one fell swoop, Adam felt himself frown once more,

"A friendly face?"

Clearly Peggy didn't share the same sense of puzzlement.

"Uh huh. First she's talking to Mary," she explained carefully, pointing to the doll propped upright on the table, "Because she's new in town and she doesn't know anyone. Then – ," suddenly the doll on the armchair, fireplace and chequers boards were being indicated in turn, " – she's going to play a game with Joanne, and then she's going to spend time with Molly and Rosie."

Adam nodded slowly,

"Wouldn't it be easier for Susan to spend time with them all together?"

"Yes," replied Peggy, before looking up at him as it were obvious, "But that's not what she does."

"I see," Adam responded gravely, still not sure he did. Abruptly however Peggy was beside him, toying again with the doll and suddenly looking coy as she lent in somewhat conspiratorially against his knee,

"Adam?"

"Yes?"

"The next time we go into town, can I buy a new dress?"

Adam blinked,

"A dress? What for?"

"For Susan."

"Oh," he couldn't pretend he wasn't vaguely relieved, the truth was Peggy herself had many beautiful dresses that Laura had picked out for her over the years – almost too many to ever make use of – and so the thought of being coerced to add another to the collection had initially presented itself as slightly daunting. Buying a dress for a doll was a much happier option, "What's wrong with Susan's blue dress?"

Looking down a little and shrugging uncertainly, Peggy continued to run the fabric appraisingly through her fingers,

"Nothing. She just wants another colour."

"Would that colour be pink?"

It was a safe enough guess, Peggy's favourite colour was pink after all. The little girl however shook her head.

"No."

"No? What colour does she want instead?"

"Green."

"Green?" his surprise betrayed him, and, sensing it, Peggy suddenly turned towards him with a pleading look,

"Oh please Adam, please! I won't ask for anything else for the rest of month I promise!"

Laughing slightly Adam threw his eyes skywards, his indulgence winning over,

"All right, we'll see."

The hope sparked in her eyes at once,

"Does that mean yes?" she gasped. Adam raised a brow in response,

"It means you will have to wait and see. Now tidy up your dolls, dinner will be ready soon and you don't want Hoss coming in and sitting on Molly or Joanne."

For a second the little girl didn't move, simply grinning in excitement at the purchase they both knew she would be getting and staring up at him,

"Thanks Adam."

Smiling back, he turned her in the direction of her toys and patted her gently on the top of the head,

"Dolls. Now."

Although he couldn't hide how pleased the short exchange had left him, glad to see Peggy so suddenly full of life once more. For the first time in over a week, it seemed like the fall-out from the fight was finally over.

Life could go back to normal.

….

**Chapter Seven.**

As her foot slid over the boundary of the schoolyard, Peggy's heart momentarily skipped a beat in her chest, blonde hair swinging wildly across her shoulder as she stole a final glance backwards. Behind her everybody was busy; jump ropes whirling in the air, marbles rumbling along the floor and each activity accompanied by the peals of laughter and shouting that usually accompanied large groups of children left to their own devices – Peggy frequently being one of them. Today however, she had bigger plans.

It was as the other foot moved to join the first however that Peggy felt a hand close suddenly around her wrist, the contact making her jump as she spun back around, expecting to come face to face with the harsh expression of Miss. Swift. Instead of her teacher however, she found Jenny Baker flanked ever-loyally by her little sister.

"What are you doing?" came the disbelieving hiss, laced with hefty disproval and backed firmly by young Valerie.

"No one's a'posed to leave school grounds during school time."

Peggy shook the hand off impatiently, attentions turning back to the task at hand as she responded to the accusation with indignance,

"I'm only going 'cross the street,"

"You're going to try and see that hussy aren't you?" Jenny bit back in tones of haughty disgust making Peggy frown,

"What's a hussy?"

"I don't know," Jenny shrugged, "It's what our Ma calls her. But that's where you're going isn't it?"

Suddenly it was Peggy's turn to shrug,

"Maybe."

Jenny continued to gaze back at her doubtfully,

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea. Miss Swift – ,"

Peggy however didn't care much for Jenny's reservations, her confidence growing with a sense of childish bravado.

"I'll be back before she even knows I left,"

Which then left her very little option but to follow through with her plan.

She'd been peeping out into the street ever since the class had been let out to play, eyes drifting down towards the saloon and hoping to see a flash of bright green beyond. She'd not seen anything yet, but that didn't necessarily mean that Georgette wasn't there. Either way Peggy was going to find out.

Her last look into the playground strengthened her resolve, finding first the uncertain features of Jenny Baker before falling on the distracted figure of Miss. Swift whose attention had been caught by a sudden heated debate over at the marble tournament.

Peggy took her chance.

Abruptly she bolted from the safe security of the little schoolyard, fleeing like a startled horse and crossing the ground at a run until she was able to round the corner and disappear from view. There was no going back now. Once out on the boardwalk she slowed her pace a little, allowing herself to catch her breath and suddenly realising that her biggest challenge had not been to escape the confines of the little building at all, but to remain undetected by the many townsfolk of Virginia City who both knew her and the fact that she was supposed to be in school. Roy Coffee in particular was going to be one to avoid.

Suddenly Peggy felt uncertain, sharply becoming aware that away from the trusty familiarity of the schoolyard and her friends, the idea was fast losing its gloss. What she was doing was silly and inappropriate and if Adam ever found out he'd be so mad at her she wasn't sure what he would do. But the thought still wasn't enough to drive her back, something inside stalling her and sticking her fast to the boardwalk. Peggy had spent her whole life surrounded by a woman's touch, she had grown up watching her mother getting dressed for social occasions, pinning up her hair and cooing over buttons, bracelets and ribbons. It had always been there, so guaranteed that it wasn't even something she'd started to miss until it had been stolen from her life in its entirety. That was what Georgette was, she was feminine, she was a woman and evidently one who revelled in being so, showing it off with every opportunity. That was what drew Peggy. She _needed_ to see Georgette, it was innate – an embellished version of something she knew to be familiar and comforting – and the thought of it drove her on another few steps.

In truth Peggy had only half-expected to actually see Georgette, driven instead by her longing and an eternally optimistic hope that served in place of logic rationality. The fact that the saloon girl appeared at the doors merely seconds after her young fan's dash out onto the boardwalk therefore seemed almost too good to be true.

Peggy caught sight of the glamorous redhead easily, the flame coloured hair appearing briefly over the batwing doors before seemingly judging the activity beyond and surreptitiously slipping out from between them. She caught the shutters swiftly as they moved to flap back, gently swinging them back into place before turning and hurrying along the planks, head-down. Had Peggy not been so altogether enraptured by her appearance, she might have noticed the inherent similarities that both she and the object of her girlish obsession were employing as they moved; discretion, secrecy. Georgette Riley too was making a break for it, Peggy hot on her unsuspecting heels.

Turning abruptly into the gap between two buildings the saloon girl quickly disappeared from sight forcing Peggy into a run to catch-up, the little girl skidding round the corner just in time to watch the sequin-draped redhead launch passionately into someone's arms, their lips coming together as if pulled roughly into place by some unseen force and hands at once moving to grip and pull their bodies closer.

Gasping a little as a breath hitched in her throat, Peggy at once flattened herself against the shadows, suddenly very aware that she was seeing something private.

"Oh Jem," breaking away for the first time, Georgette's voice came out husky and emotional, her grip on the man before her remaining tight as if he was somehow prone to bolting, "I thought you weren't going to make it. Are you all right?"

Glancing towards the mouth of the street with such ferocity that it made Peggy flatten herself further in alarm, the man wrapped in Georgette's embrace shrugged nonchalantly in response, wrestling free one arm to swipe absently at his nose, sniffing deeply as he did,

"I'm here aren't I?" came the spoken-portion of the reply, deep, sharp and directed it seemed, anywhere but at the person if should have been. For her part, Georgette seemed not to care, instead leaning forward once more to tighten arms around the big broad chest.

"And I'm so glad."

The man detached her again quickly, a look of distaste passing unseen across his face as he sighed somewhat irritably,

"Georgie," he hissed, "Not here – you want them to catch me? Lock me up again?"

The red hair shook in furious denial,

"Of course not!"

"Well then you'd better have found me somewhere to hole up 'til this all blows over."

"And then we can be together?" Georgette asked pleadingly, her eyes wide with desperation.

"Yeah, yeah – I told you didn't I? But we ain't gonna be together nothin' if you don't get me out of here."

Georgette nodded quickly,

"I will sweetie, I will. I found somewhere real good, you just lie-low 'til sundown baby, trust me."

Again her hands were tracking frantically over his body, almost as if trying to explore every last inch of flesh before committing it to memory and seemingly not realising as she did that the object of her affection seemed less than pleased.

"Georgie," he hissed again, wrenching her off and holding her firm by one wrist until she winced in pain. Seeing it he let her go at once, tone becoming softer as he wrapped his arms around her and moved to tip her face upwards with the crook of one finger,

"I love you baby," he drawled somewhat apologetically as he lent in to kiss her. Georgette reciprocated keenly,

"Love you too sugar."

"I'll see you tonight," he finished, pulling away and just managing to hide the hint of irritation triggered as she refused to let go of his fingers, instead continuing to smile adoringly across at him as the space between their bodies widened.

"I'll be waiting."

She waited for him to disappear into obscurity altogether before sighing heavily, arms moving to wrap around her suddenly cold form, instantly missing the burly warmth although the sadness she felt in her heart at parting so soon was reflected only in the semi-dreamy smile painting her face. Picking up the corner of her skirt in a sudden feminine flourish, Georgette whirled around with an exaggeratedly wide sweep, her free arm raised as if placed gently across a dancing partner's shoulder and her expression so easy it was as though she were sweeping across a ballroom. The sound of a foot scuffing against dirt quickly broke the illusion and abruptly Georgette spun to a halt.

"Hello?" she called cautiously, heart striking up a fierce beat in her chest, "Who's there?"

Another scuffing noise followed, accompanied by a tiny silhouette shuffling hesitantly from the shadows and for a second the bejewelled redhead couldn't quite work out what or who it was, her eventual realisation coming both as a relief and something of a joke.

"Oh," she breathed with a giggle, "It's you. Peggy isn't it? Little Joe's kid?" at a loss as how to respond Peggy simply nodded, drawing an eventual frown, "What are you doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be at school?" another bashful nod followed and for the first time Georgette began to sense that the little girl may have seen more than she had been supposed to – meaning Jem. Just as Peggy was preparing herself for a telling-off however, the woman suddenly smiled sweetly, moving in to place a gentle hand on the her golden hair, tone surprisingly light, "Hey Peggy, can you keep a secret?"

For a second the little girl faltered, looking down almost as if disappointed.

"I'm not supposed to."

"What?" Georgette replied, sounding vaguely offended, "Not even between girls? I'm going to keep _your_ secret."

Peggy frowned,

"What secret?"

"Why," responded the saloon girl with tones of incredulity, "Skipping school! I'm not going to tell anyone, now are you saying that despite me doing all that for you, you can't keep one little secret for me?"

Somehow, when she put it like that, things seemed different,

"Well…" Peggy began slowly, her hesitation only increased by Georgette's focused intensity, "I guess that would be okay,"

Bending down the redhead pinched one of her cheeks gently,

"Of course it would. Now, you saw that man I was just with? Well, he's an old friend and he's come to visit his mother – she hasn't seen him for so long, and I would hate for the surprise to be ruined before he even got there…so I need you not to tell anyone what you just saw. You think you can do that?"

"I guess…" Peggy replied slowly, her conviction building. After all, it seemed like a noble cause to lie about. She doubted even Adam would have considered concealment of the facts bad in this case. It certainly wouldn't do anyone any harm. Above her, Georgette smiled thinly,

"There now, that's my girl," she was moving away again before the child had even realised what had happened, all calm superiority once more and pausing only to dip her hand into the little velvet pouch slung around her waist, "Here."

Pulling out a gold tube she tossed it across the distance towards them, watching as Peggy scrabbled to collect it from the ground before holding it up like she'd been given some sort of antiquity. It was a lipstick, the colour inside a deep and brilliant red.

"For me?" Peggy breathed in amazement, staring hard at the precious capsule in her hand and unable to keep the desire from her voice. Georgette smirked,

"Why sure honey, it's a gift. But remember – ," and when Peggy glanced up again she found that the redhead was staring at her hard, one finger held upwards in warning but her tone decidedly sing-song, "It's our little secret."

Peggy nodded back solemnly. She wasn't going to tell a soul.

….

**Chapter Eight.**

As far as running a spread as vast as the Ponderosa went, the day had been a relatively easy one. Several fences had been repaired, a minor but nonetheless profitable business deal had been struck and a small party of hopeful settlers had been gently encouraged to keep moving along. All in all, it was the sort of mundane sequence of events that kept Ben Cartwright and his boys happy – and affluent – ranchers, and, as the sun had begun to dip down into the warm haze of dusk they had one by one returned to the homestead with one thing still left to do; take their place at the dinner table and enjoy a good family meal.

Adam had returned first, having broken from work early to collect Peggy from school. Ben had followed, and then finally Little Joe and Hoss, each man slotting himself effortlessly into his usual seat and joining the easy family banter as they waited patiently for their pint-sized fifth member.

Since bringing her home from school that afternoon, Adam had barely seen Peggy, the little girl having charged up to her room like a lit firework, practically bouncing off the balustrades in her haste. Once or twice he'd heard a suspicious sounding thud, but Peggy's voice had beaten him to the question each time he'd thought of asking it,

"_I'm ok! You don't need to come up!"_

"_What was that noise?"_

"_Nothin' Adam, really!"_

He'd believed it about as much as he believed the world was flat, but he'd left her to it regardless. He had no idea what little girls got up to hidden away in their bedrooms, and for the most part he was happy not to find out. Sitting at the dinner table in the relaxed company of his family however, he was unknowingly about to get a taste,

"Peggy?!" he called for the second time as Hop Sing scurried out of the kitchen clutching a scorching pot of something and momentarily obscuring the table in a thick cloud of steam, "Peg – ,"

As Adam glanced absently towards the staircase with half a mind to fetch the child himself however, the sight he suddenly saw there stopped him dead. Beside him around the table glasses, pots and place mats were being enthusiastically juggled, the remaining members of the family shifting items to make room for the growing spread of food being ferried in to them and all but oblivious to the slowly unfolding spectacle.

It was Ben that registered Adam's silent amazement first, picking up on the dumbfounded incredulity almost by telepathy and turning a frown in his eldest son's direction with instinctive concern,

"Adam?"

Two extra heads turned towards him, each brow knitting into a similar frown before slowly moving to follow the path of the shell-shocked gaze.

Peggy was stood before them on the staircase, one hand resting loosely on her hip, the other held out straight before her as though beckoning forth an imaginary dance partner. Her golden locks, usually hanging loosely across her shoulders had been piled untidily on top of her head and seemed to be held in place with more ribbons and trinkets than there was hair to grip. On her feet Peggy was wearing a finely heeled pair of shoes, stuffed right down into the toe-space, the backs gaping devoid of any sort of appendage at all. Around her lips she'd drawn a thick and messy trail of bright red, which she was clearly using to accentuate the pout she was pulling. As if the shock of that alone wasn't enough however, there was the dress to contend with as well.

Adam remembered the dress – knew it as one of Laura's, one of her finer gowns, reserved for dances and discerning company, all glitter and elegance. In fact it had been his favourite. On Peggy it hung long, the hemline trailing in a careless bundle behind, the front hitched up in Peggy's free hand. On the yawning collar there was a faint streak of the brilliant red lipstick, and to make matters worse the little girl had piled on every last piece of jewellery she had been able to find, the chains of the many necklaces clearly tangled together as they swung down to almost reach her waist.

For a moment, nobody said a word, nobody knowing quite what to say let alone how to articulate it. To Peggy however, the silence seemed to pass as approval,

"Don't I look pretty?" she asked brightly, accompanying the innocent-enough question with a grin and the expression proving so full of girlish excitement that Adam's heart suddenly lurched in a violently complex combination of grief and resurgent anger.

"Take it off," he snapped back sharply, the mood turning almost palpably. At once all eyes turned towards him, his brothers beginning to shift uncomfortably across the other side of the table. They knew the ghosts that he was seeing – they knew how badly the moment had caught him – but they also knew that Peggy did not, as her fractured answer seemed to imply.

"But, Adam – ,"

"Now!"

It wasn't so much as request as a demand, the shout rising to the point where Adam could barely control his own emotions so intently were they coursing through him. The truth was that in having taken such prodigious care of Peggy, the past few exhaustive months had left Adam very little space to grieve himself. Whenever he'd felt the bite of loss or self-pity starting to gnaw at him he'd pushed it aside, almost ferocious in his refusal to give in to it. Peggy had come first, her insecurities, her sorrow and her hurt being his sole focus. He'd had to stay strong for her and he'd done it too, but in burying his own grief he'd not properly dealt with it and in so doing Laura had become some sort of revered martyr, an almost sacred-figure rather than the fond memory she should have been becoming. His father and his brothers understood that perfectly – even better than he did himself – but to Peggy the cold response was as shocking as it was upsetting.

"Don't you think I look pretty?"

"I said go upstairs and take it off!"

His anger only compounded her utter bewilderment,

"But I – ,"

"Those clothes are not toys Peggy! You go upstairs and you put them back where you found them. Then, when you come back down you can bring me the lipstick as well."

God only knew where she'd got that from anyway, Laura's make-up had all been thrown out by her Aunt Lil during the sort-through after the funeral, and in the end only the jewellery and dresses had been packed away into the Cartwright homestead for Peggy to care for, remember and, eventually when she was old enough, wear. Not now however, definitely not now. It was the suggestion of parting with the rouge however that seemed to cause the little girl the most consternation,

"But – but it's mine! It was a present!"

Adam's eyes narrowed instantly,

"From who?" feeling the intensity however, Peggy abruptly clammed up, belatedly remembering her promise and beginning to wish she'd never made it. Instead she continued to stand quiet, "From _who_?"

As the stalemate threatened to grow, Ben made a move to clear his throat, the action interjecting a momentary note of calm into the proceedings but doing little to quell the overall mood.

"Peggy?" he instructed evenly, "I think it's best if you change into your regular clothes for dinner. We'll wait for you before we start."

Swallowing nervously Peggy glanced back up at him, her voice hushed but defiant,

"No thank you, I'm not hungry."

Instantly Adam's temper flared again,

"Peggy – ,"

But this time it was she who countered him, turning and launching herself up the stairs with an impassioned shout; part anger, part misery and all rebellion.

"I'm _not_ hungry!"

Her bedroom door slammed moments later, abruptly plunging everyone back into silence. Turning to drop his head into his hands, Adam sighed heavily and squeezed shut his eyes. He had never felt more unsure about raising a child.

"Adam – ," Ben inquired tentatively in the pause, exchanging a brief look with his younger sons, eyes mirroring the pain they saw in their older brother's. His eldest however quickly cut him off,

"Don't say it."

Ben blinked, not sure exactly what it was he wasn't supposed to be saying.

"I was going to ask if you were all right."

Raising his head again bleakly, Adam mustered a weak smile,

"I'm fine Pa, doing a wonderful job," the deep cynicism cut them all, and, seeing it had done more harm to his family than he had intended for himself, Adam sighed again and regained a sense of dejected composure, "I didn't think I'd react like that."

Ben nodded slowly,

"It's understandable."

"It won't be to Peggy."

"It will," Ben countered gently, "If you explain it."

Adam smiled back wryly,

"Well I don't expect she'll want to talk to me right now."

Gazing across at his downcast brother and feeling the hurt keenly, Hoss suddenly sprang to his feet collecting up a plate and starting to load it with food as he did.

"I reckon maybe I'll just take her a little something," he offered willingly as they watched him layering portions onto the china-face, "Maybe have a talk with her…"

"Yes," Ben interrupted quickly with a flicker of a disconcertion, "But perhaps without taking her _all_ the food at the table?"

Hoss faltered accordingly,

"Oh, uh, yes sir."

He was off and away before anyone could stop him, leaving Adam increasingly lost by the sudden sharp turn of events.

"Where would she get the idea to dress like that?" Little Joe asked absently, trying and failing in his own mind to make sense of things and only seeming to draw further questions. Ben had similar considerations,

"Where did she get the lipstick?"

"She said it was a gift," Little Joe replied flatly,

"But from who?"

Suddenly inspiration hit the youngest like a thunderbolt, and almost instantly his own mood slumped in response, feeling his part in the predicament expand and the guilt instantly weighing heavy.

"I think I know – Georgette."

It was clearly not the answer either his father or brother had been expecting.

"_Georgette_?" they repeated as one.

"Peggy saw her in town a couple of days back when she was waiting for me after school. She started asking questions and I answered them – I didn't think anything of it…I'm sorry Adam."

Ben frowned quickly,

"What did you tell her?"

"You know," Joe shrugged back, "That Georgette just kinda, talked to people, that she was…well…"

Realisation finally reaching him, Adam filled in the sentence for him.

"A friendly face."

Joe looked up.

"Right," although noting his father's continued narrow-eyed glare he faltered once more, "Well what did you want me to do Pa? The kid asked me a question, so I answered it. Was I wrong?"

"No Joe," Adam replied for him, catching both men's attentions with surprise, "This isn't your fault. It's mine."

"_Yours_?" Ben bit back defensively, "Adam – ,"

"Peggy doesn't have enough female interaction, I knew it and yet I didn't do anything about it. It's my fault."

"Adam," Ben implored regardless, "I don't know why you have to be so hard on yourself. This isn't anyone's fault. You didn't kill Laura!"

It was quite a rebuttal but one that had been a long time coming. If Adam registered it however, then he didn't react to it.

"No, but _I'm_ Peggy's guardian Pa, I'm supposed to keep her safe."

Little Joe blinked in surprise,

"It's only a dress Adam."

The look he got in response was more serious than he'd expected.

"I wish it were. Jem Collins broke out of jail last week."

"But what's that got to do with anything?" Ben asked in tones of utter bewilderment, he and Little Joe both as lost as one another. Adam however regarded them with an eerie calm.

"Who's the one person in Virginia City who would still help him after everything he's done? Who's the one person he'd turn to if he was ever in trouble?"

As understanding flared Little Joe's answer came out dark with implication,

"Georgette."

Adam gazed back in response, his whole expression suddenly weary with added burden and the consequences of the earlier playground fight abruptly fading into insignificance. His whole decision to take Peggy on seemed to be imploding around him, dragging he and his entire family into the mess and making him feel as though he'd been utterly selfish for thinking it would work in the first place. He sighed deeply,

"I can keep Georgette away from Peggy easily enough, but the question is can I keep Peggy away from Georgette?"

Nobody answered him. There wasn't anything to say.

….

**Chapter Nine.**

By the time Adam had made it up the stairs to talk to Peggy some time after their aborted dinner, the little girl had all ready been asleep, slumped awkwardly in the chair by the window, a light breeze blowing in through the chink to gently ruffle her hair. She'd been dressed for bed, the lipstick, dress and jewellery removed and only one ribbon still trapped in her hair which Adam had softly removed before slowly scooping her up into his arms and transferring her into her bed. She'd snuggled into the covers at once, barely even waking as Adam had sat carefully beside her and began to stroke her hair. That had been his Peggy; young, sweet, just a child. He didn't want to grow up any more quickly than she had to, and not spending her free time emulating saloon girls was part of that deal.

She'd stirred briefly, just once, her voice deeply slurred with exhaustion,

"Adam?"

"Yes."

"Don't be mad…don't like it when you're mad,"

He'd smiled compassionately in response, an expression completely lost on the semi-awake child,

"Go to sleep Peg. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Only when the morning had come Adam had all ready been gone for the day, as had Joe and Hoss, leaving only Ben to greet her at the breakfast table, folding his newspaper in half and putting down his coffee to smile across at her warmly,

"Well, good morning Peggy,"

"G'morning," she'd chirped in response, crossing the room and clambering up onto one of the chairs. Ben spread his arms wide to gesture around the table,

"I'm afraid we find ourselves all alone today. The boys had to ride out early to deal with some stray cattle," leaning closer and dropping his voice in whispered levity, Ben's expression took on one of conspiratorial amusement, "Apparently Mrs. Obendine found one eating her laundry yesterday and another three disturbing her chickens,"

The tale had the desired effect and suddenly Peggy was giggling as Hop Sing went about pouring her a cup of hot chocolate, indulging her as he seemed to do most mealtimes – all the while saving his most caustic complaints for his employers.

For the briefest of seconds, Peggy had felt vaguely uneasy sitting at the table, the action a reminder of just how badly things had gone wrong the night before, when she'd ended up eating dinner in her room and had spoken to nobody except Hoss. From his gentle words she had just about managed to understand why Adam had reacted so badly, the gentle-giant of a middle brother explaining as best he could the complexity of the situation;

"_You see Peg, Adam's kind of a proud sort of feller – he don't like us to see his emotions too close. But the truth is he misses your Ma a lot more'n he'll ever say, and seeing you dressed up like her and lookin' so pretty an' all, well honey, it just kinda surprised him. Now I know he shouted but believe me he feels just terrible about it…"_

There had been more, but those had been the basics and Peggy had understood them – but it still didn't stop the hurt. Never in all the time she'd known him had Adam been so unflinching cross with her; disappointed, yes, recently; worried almost certainly but never, ever genuinely furious and it was a sight that had rattled her deeply and shaken the new foundations she'd been building. Adam Cartwright was the most important person in her entire world, there was nobody she loved better, and nobody she had thought loved her better, but the last thing she could remember seeing had been the anger on Adam's face, and his sudden no-show at breakfast only served to accentuate her growing concerns. She was worried that Adam would stop caring, and her desire for the comforting femininity of Georgette was suddenly clashing with her need for the confident solidity of Adam. It was like being split in two.

For most of the morning Peggy had played quietly by the fire, Ben retiring to a mound of never-ending paperwork stacked at his desk and from then on splitting his attentions between both the administrative and the domestic – the latter being Hop Sing's five-minutely requests to be driven into town for supplies, and retorting that if 'number two son' ate less, then they'd all have to make the trip less. It took just an hour and ten minutes of such reasoning before Ben subsequently gave in and fetched the wagon. Which was why, at a quarter to twelve, Peggy found herself standing in Virginia City, just a stone's throw from the saloon.

She was assigned promptly to Hop Sing's charge, the logic being that as the Chinaman's idea the subsequent logistics of the excursion were to be left to his care, the other reason being that Peggy would prove better help in the general store than she would in the office's of Victor King, Lumber Supplier where Ben had been heading. Shopping with Hop Sing however was not thrilling as it had promised to be, their simple ten minute task turning into something inordinately longer thanks to his seemingly incessant need to barter, the fact that Mr. Johnston remained unmoved by each new attempt at haggling seemingly not denting the Chinaman's pursuit of a deal. Peggy managed only to transfer a stem of ginger and a jar of honey into the wagon before falling into disuse.

The batwings of the saloon had been calling to her ever since they'd arrived in town, the lure of seeing Georgette strong and growing stronger as she thought back to her own failed attempts at femininity the night before. She yearned to see the real thing, but in helping Hop Sing she had managed to banish the need to the back of her mind. As the resilient Chinaman had continued his attempt to beat Mr. Johnston down into some semblance of a bargain however, Peggy had found herself with little else to do but sit on the back of the wagon and stare across the street longingly.

She wondered absently what her mother would have made of Georgette, her mother who so loved dresses and pretty things. She decided almost at once that Laura would have liked the saloon girl just as much as she did, picturing suddenly the pair walking down the street arm in arm and enjoying the awed looks of everyone they passed. Together they would have been the most beautiful women in all of Virginia City and it was a thought that made her both happy, to think of her mother so admired, and yet sad that never again would she be. Her mother's imagined seal of approval however made up Peggy's mind, and so, casting one last look through the window of the general store, she slid quietly from the back of wagon and skipped her way across the street intending only to look beneath the doors knowing full-well that anything more would earn her more trouble than she could even imagine.

It took longer than she had expected to find Georgette, her eyes instead initially drawn to the men she saw beyond. They certainly weren't like the Cartwrights, or any other men she knew for that matter, the majority of whom were well-dressed and well-ordered. The men seated around the tables and slouching at the bar were anything but; a rag-tag bunch of dirty, hairy drunks, slurred, cussing and most of them evidently in need of both a good bath and launder. In the middle of them all however, sat the one person the little girl had set out to find, this time in a dress of striking blue, shorter than any Peggy had ever seen and draped across the lap of an overweight, three-toothed, scraggly bearded stranger, his hand resting suggestively on her revealed upper thigh and his pock-marked face craning upwards to whisper something sloppy into her ear. Abruptly Georgette threw her head backwards, letting out a forced but delicate laugh and turning to swat the man playfully on the chest, her fingers lingering for a moment against the damp curls that sprang up from underneath his sweat-patched shirt.

For a second, Peggy merely blinked, surprised and a little confused by what she saw. There was something about Georgette's behaviour that she found oddly disturbing, the man whose attentions she was indulging striking the little girl as the sort of person her mother, father and Adam had long warned her against, the type of individual who instantly set off an inherent inner alarm system and who naturally invoked feelings of mistrust and discomfort. Georgette however seemed to feel no such misgivings, her demeanour so relaxed as to stand at obvious odds with the situation. Suddenly Peggy thought backs to Little Joe's earlier words of Georgette's being a 'friendly face' to newcomers. She was certainly friendly all right, in fact, Peggy doubted she'd ever seen anyone being so friendly.

Abruptly, another peal of laughter dying down, Georgette slid delicately to her feet, pausing only as the greasy man from before refused to let go of her hand, instead leering slightly as he bent down to place a kiss on it. Georgette simply smiled back at him before turning and sashaying towards the bar, careful to throw a well-aimed wink over her shoulder in the direction of her newest admirer. She came to stand close to the doors with a sigh, a distinct eye-roll surreptitiously greeting the bartender as she did.

"Give me two sugar," she drawled lazily, before turning back and spreading her arms wide across the bar-top, grinning seductively at her clients as she waited for their refills.

Almost as if moving on impulse alone, Peggy took her chance, ducking quickly under the batwing doors and inching her way across the sticky, beer-stained floor step by tiny step until she was so close alongside her heroine that her every last sense was filled with the powerful aroma of the saloon girl's perfume. Drawing in a deep breath and thinking of her mother with a sudden longing, Peggy reached up and tugged twice on the dress.

Peering down in surprise, Georgette's ensuing smile struck only the little girl before her as utterly genuine,

"Well, well," she sang, bending forward a little until Peggy could trace every last sparkle on her dress, "What do have here? Little Peggy Cartwright, yes?"

"Dayton," came the reply, small and awestruck. The response she got in turn was only half-aware,

"Hmm?"

Steeling her resolve, Peggy spoke up stronger,

"I'm not a proper Cartwright – they just look after me. My name's Peggy Dayton."

Georgette pursed her lips thinly,

"I see…and what exactly can I do for you Peggy Dayton?"

"Nothing really," the child replied matter-of-factly but seemingly no less enthralled, "I just wanted to say that – that I think you're the most beautiful Princess I ever saw,"

The revelation made the saloon girl blink momentarily, caught by her own surprise,

"Thank you,"

However any further compliments were suddenly interrupted by an interjection from a stranger further along the bar, sliding his drink closer in one hand and following behind it at a leisurely pace until he was almost on top of them.

"I couldn't have put it better myself," he muttered throatily, moving to gently twist a flame-red curl around one finger, Peggy seemingly ignored in the drunken desire to procreate. Georgette laughed flatly in response, ducking from his grasp and instead nodding her head towards the bristling bulk of facial hair at the table before them,

"Sorry sugar, I'm taken. You'll just have to wait your turn."

The reply was as drunken as it was angry.

"I ain't waiting for nobody."

The violence started so abruptly, the Peggy didn't truly know it had started until she was fully caught within it, watching in open-mouth horror as the man from the table promptly threw himself at the man from the bar, who had suddenly grabbed hold of Georgette and was trying to force her into an untidy kiss. Seemingly spurred on by the fallout, the rest of the saloon instantly began to lumber into action itself, until the fists and tables were flying, and the stumbling, shambling bodies of the majority of the patrons were criss-crossing around in front of Peggy so fast that there seemed no way of avoiding or escaping them. A tug on her arm pulled her quickly from the path of an oncoming body, the man sprawling heavily at her feet as Georgette dragged her backwards towards the relative safety of the wall and held on to her tight. Around them glasses and chairs were bouncing off every surface, the entire room descending into a cacophony of shouting, grunting, smashing and crashing, so loud and so intense that Peggy suddenly wished she were anywhere else and only maintaining her resolve by burying her face into Georgette's skirts. She chose to look up again at just the wrong moment, the jilted man at the bar lumbering angrily in their direction, an empty bottle held high above his head. As he roared in fury Georgette pulled Peggy hard against her, ducking down until they were both hunkered against the wall and anticipating the fierce blow they knew was just a moment away.

The gunshot made them both jump, the sound of shattering glass that followed sounding even louder against the sudden silence that had enveloped the abruptly stationary chaos.

Breath tearing loudly from her throat and her heart beating wildly against her chest, Peggy unscrewed her eyes quickly, hating the terrifying mass of the fight but hating the stilted silence even more. The sight that greeted her was both overwhelming and startling.

Adam was standing half-silhouetted in the doorway, hat drawn low, gun pointed upwards and still smoking. His expression was fierce, betraying a measured, unpredictable kind of fury that instantly set unease amongst the brawling patrons. Messing with a Cartwright was a famously bad idea at the best of times, economically as well as physically. Messing with the oldest Cartwright boy when he was wearing the face he was would have been nothing short of suicidal, and knowing it, everybody slowly went back to their drinks, straightening tables and righting chairs as they did. Peggy didn't know how he was there, or why, but she did know she was very, very glad to see him and evidently so was Georgette, straightening herself with a long sigh,

"Well, my hero. Good job you got here when you did or the pair of us would be sporting more than just pretty faces."

Turning back towards them with an unflinchingly severe expression, Adam glanced at her briefly before instead turning his attentions to the child hovering nervously beside.

"Peggy, we're going home."

He was mad. No, he was worse than mad, he was livid and not wishing to push further, Peggy obediently joined him. Georgette however, didn't quite take the hint.

"Hey honey," she drawled across instead, suddenly seeing her next potential client and not realising how wrong she was, "Where's the fire? You got time for a drink I'm sure?"

Freezing on the spot, Adam turned slowly back towards her, his face registering his angered disbelief and his tone taking on an icy superiority as he bit back as civil a reply as he could muster under the circumstances,

"_Miss_. Riley," he began, emphasising the first word sharply, "Do you have any idea of the kind of danger you placed Peggy in just now? Do you realise she could have been hurt or worse? What were you even doing letting a _child_ in here?"

Faced with accusations however, and unaware they had been coming, Georgette simply blinked back in indignant astonishment,

"Listen sugar, the kid came in of her own accord. I didn't make her. She's not my little girl, it's not my job to keep tabs on where she is."

"No," Adam bit back, all the angrier in that what she'd said was true, "But for some reason that 'little girl' looks up to you, the least you could do is try to deserve it."

Georgette glared back at him fiercely,

"Well I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you."

Adam however wasn't done,

"From now on, you stop giving her gifts, you stop encouraging her and you stay away from my child."

In the background, Ben slid to a breathless halt across the boardwalk, peering in through the swinging doors and taking in both the melee and Peggy's place within it with a silent groan. He was just in time for the little girl's sudden and utterly unexpected explosion of anger, turned fully and unmistakeably at Adam.

"I am _not_ your child!" she screamed vehemently, tiny fists screwing up in anger and her face flushing hot red as tears began to prick at her eyes, "I'm not _anybody's_!"

And turning she flung herself past Ben and out onto the street, tearing back towards the wagon and sobbing brokenly.

For a second Adam simply stood in dumbfounded agony, the utter shock of the moment compounded by its very public setting. Quietly Ben stepped up behind him, looping an arm around his son's shoulder and wheeling him away and back out into the sun.

"Adam – ," he began remorsefully, "I'm so sorry. I thought she was with Hop Sing and – ,"

He stopped again as his son shook his head, aware for the first time that he was barely even listening.

"What do I do now?"

"Adam – ,"

But he wasn't about to be consoled.

"She wants Laura, Pa," and as desolate as he sounded Ben couldn't deny it wasn't true, "She wants Laura and whatever I do it's not going to be good enough. Perhaps its just time to accept that."

….

**Chapter Ten.**

"She could have been killed!"

It was a statement that had echoed heavily around the room, clunking solidly from surface to surface before turning back and rounding on the person who'd uttered it, pacing tall and angry before the fireplace. In front of him, his father and brothers had looked on in downcast sympathy, the day's events having caught them all with equal measures of severity. Sitting back against the couch, Hoss had shook his head almost absently,

"What was she thinking? Goin' into a saloon. She knows better'n that surely?"

"Or at least we thought she did," Little Joe had countered in response.

Beside them Ben had sighed heavily from the armchair, dropping to rub at his eyes with a weary hand and feeling his own part in the latest debacle starting to weigh strongly once more,

"It was my fault boys," he'd offered bleakly in the silence, "It was my fault for letting her out of my sight."

For Adam however, desolation had fast given way to unbridled frustration.

"No Pa, Hoss' right. Peggy knows better than that. I just can't understand why she'd do it."

"All to see Miss. Georgette I reckon," Hoss had filled in for them succinctly, voicing the one certainty in the whole mess that they all ready knew beyond doubt. The question had been how to move on from there and it had seemed so suddenly all encompassing a-quandary that the gathered Cartwrights had remained oblivious to the tiny form that had slunk to the top of staircase and squatted down to peek through the banisters.

"What are you going to do now Adam?" Little Joe had asked hesitantly in the renewed silence, watching as his oldest brother had briefly shut his eyes and run a hand across the back of his aching neck.

"Do I have another option?"

They'd all stared back at him quietly, Hoss taking the eventual plunge and asking the question they'd all been silently thinking.

"You gonna write to Lillian?"

Peggy's heart had flipped instantly in response_. _AuntLil? Adam had nodded once,

"I think I have to."

And then suddenly the little girl had wanted to hear no more, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that with one thoughtless action she had ruined everything. Adam and his family no longer wanted her. They were sending her away. Hot tears had pricked at her eyes, her chest crushing in on her until even to draw breath seemed to create an explosion of unbearable sorrow. The world she had come to know, the world she just been beginning to belong to was crumbling around her, breaking into tiny unfixable pieces like glass and try as she might she couldn't think of a single way to pick them back up again. Never in her life had she felt so utterly lost and alone, and the emotion was a big one for a little girl to handle. Clutching Susan to her body so tightly the doll nearly folded clean in half, Peggy turned and ran back down the corridor, throwing herself onto her bed and concealing herself fully beneath the covers, rolling into a tight ball before letting the tears fall.

It was all her fault, she was an unlovable child and the more people tried the more they got hurt. Her father, her mother, Adam, they were all leaving her one by one and in the end she would have no one.

Sleep had been a long time coming.

The next morning Adam had been absent once more, his non-appearance apparently owing to some urgent sort of business contract, but to a frightened little girl doubting her place in life just seeming like another excuse to avoid her. She'd really disappointed him this time, nor was the vaguely dream-like recollection she had of Adam coming in to see her while she'd been sleeping any help, remembering only the feel of his hand on her hair and a hazy, 'we'll talk later' that barely radiated down through her sleep-fuddled ears. Now that she was up and awake she didn't want to talk later, she didn't want to talk at all because she knew that when they did Adam would be sending her away. Forever.

It was Hoss who drove her to school. Ben having accompanied Adam and leaving only Little Joe and his older brother at the breakfast table, although the youngest had been unusually quiet, his downcast expression having confirmed the worst of Peggy's fears. As a result it was she who in turn had become unusually quiet on the ride into town, sitting with her head hung low and her schoolbooks clutched tightly in her hands almost as if her fingers might burst through the covers altogether. The silence was one that Hoss had instead sought to cover with idle chat,

"That Mrs. Obendine sure was mad when we got there – half near found the herd in her kitchen them heifers were so keen on eatin' her laundry. Sure was a sight…" he tailed off on realising that the little girl was barely listening, his expression softening as he glanced down at her, hating to see her so glum, "Peggy honey? You all right?"

Her response was almost inaudibly quiet,

"Adam wants to talk to me."

"Yes," Hoss replied, "I reckon he does."

"I don't want to talk to him,"

"Why not?"

"Because I know what he's going to say."

As Peggy broke off with a long and very mature-sounding sigh, the frown that had been hovering around Hoss' brow promptly vanished, replaced instead with something warmer,

"Aw now Peg, Adam won't shout at you no more. He just wants what's best for you is all. We all do."

"I know," she whispered brokenly the tears starting to catch at her lashes before another thought suddenly hit her, banishing them instantly in favour of new-found concern, "Hoss?"

"Hmm?"

"Will Traveller be able to stay here? In the barn with the other horses?"

The frown reappeared across Hoss' features almost instantly,

"Huh?"

Fearing that maybe the answer was going to be a 'no' however, Peggy pressed on desperately,

"Because he really likes 'em, and I don't think he'd like to move all that much."

It was half-true anyway, Aunt Lil would have no room or use for a pony in the city, and at least at the Ponderosa he'd be with his friends rather than being sold off to someone and somewhere she didn't know. Hoss however didn't seem to catch her urgency, instead continuing to frown as he nodded in obvious bafflement,

"Sure honey. That little feller ain't goin' nowhere."

And settling back against the seat, Peggy felt the knot in her chest momentarily un-tighten for the first time that morning. Traveller at least had his reprieve – that was something.

The first thing she noticed as they pulled up the main street of Virginia City was the wagon pulled up beside the saloon, a small cover obscuring the contents but the driver instantly familiar despite looking completely different. Georgette Riley was standing on the driver's seat, sparkling dresses and jewellery replaced instead by tan pants and a flannel shirt. Her red hair hung long and curled down her back rather than in its usual elegant pile, and gone were the accessories and trinkets. Even dressed as normally as everybody else however, she still struck Peggy as the most beautiful woman in the world, and the sight made the breath catch in her throat for several reasons. Was Georgette leaving too?

Beside her Hoss had either chosen not to mention or else genuinely not registered the saloon girl's presence, instead continuing with the gentle banter he'd been employing ever since they'd left the Ponderosa, Hop Sing waving them off from the front doorstep like a indulgent mother. It continued right up to the schoolhouse, and, disarmed by how ordinary the gesture was, Peggy let him lower her onto the ground like it was any other morning, which was how Hoss was acting – even if he knew it wasn't.

"Have a good day sweetie, y'hear? Adam'll be by to pick y'up later."

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Peggy nodded wordlessly, suddenly aware that such simple exchanges were soon to be a thing of the past and feeling the so hurt sharply she didn't trust herself to speak. Hoss threw her one last wink and then he was off again, spurring the horses into action. She watched him go unblinking, waiting until the familiar sight had passed out of view altogether before moving slightly and even then pleading for him to come flying back round the corner, yelling that they'd changed their minds and everything was going to be all right.

He didn't.

Caught up viciously by the strength of her emotions, it was a second before Peggy registered the wagon outside the saloon again, a thought darting into her mind almost as instantly as she did but then fleeing abruptly as if too terrible for genuine consideration. What if she left with Georgette? Just the two of them? She faltered again almost immediately. Was it such an awful thought? After all, Adam and the Cartwrights no longer wanted her, and she had heard Aunt Lil saying she was getting too old to raise a child, so where was the guarantee that even _she_ would take her in? Suddenly she was full childish fantasies; she and Georgette sitting round a campfire; doing a twirl in one of the fancy dresses as Georgette laughed and clapped behind her. Georgette reminded her so much of the femininity she'd been lacking, was the idea such a bad one? After all, the saloon girl _had_ tried to protect her during the bar-fight, so that must have meant she cared about her. It was all the conviction Peggy needed and suddenly her feet were moving. She was desperate for reassurance, desperate to find a place in life to be needed and suddenly, in the wagon before her, she saw what seemed like the only chance she had left. She had to take it.

Standing towards the front of the wagon was a small group of men, each of them looking up and sharing a few light-hearted words with Georgette, still seated up-front and seemingly ready to head out. Peggy could hear the sultry tones even as she ran across the street and they seemed to her instantly reassuring.

Getting up into the back proved more difficult however, and as she pulled herself in, feet kicking frenziedly for purchase, her schoolbooks slid out from under her arms and onto the street with a thud. She barely even noticed, pulling herself up the last few inches and slithering quickly under the cover, drawing her feet up and in until she was completely concealed. The last thing she needed was to be spotted by someone that knew her and dragged back to face the heartache that would come with Adam telling her face-to-face he didn't want her anymore. She couldn't have dealt with that. She loved him too much to hear him tell her otherwise. Although in that moment she'd have happily traded all she had for his comforting embrace, and the thought of it made her reconsider. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't leave with Georgette, she just couldn't. She owed Adam more than just disappearing, nor did she like thinking of the worry he'd have to go through looking for her. She couldn't have him hating her _more_. She had to get out – only suddenly, she'd missed her chance.

The wagon started off with a jolt, so sudden that it made Peggy lurch hard into something metallic behind her, the cover over her head starting to seem more like a prison than a disguise as she quickly tried to pull it off. She froze however at the sound of a voice somewhere beside them out on the boardwalk, easy drawl instantly recognisable and frightening; Roy Coffee. If she plopped back out onto the street now she would be in a world of trouble and that was one thing she didn't want. But then nor did she want to leave.

She didn't know what to do and she was frightened, very, very frightened. As the wagon rolled on below her she had a longing for her mother; her father. She had a sudden longing for Adam, wanting him so badly it almost hurt and cursing herself for her own foolishness.

Adam wasn't there, Adam wasn't going to be there at all much longer.

She was on her own.

….

**Chapter Eleven.**

Adam arrived at the school just as everyone was beginning to file in, standing to one side and smiling with fond remembrance as excitable children poured past him out into the open freedom of the afternoon seemingly en masse. Once upon a time both of his brothers had been part of such throngs, now he was waiting only to see one little girl who'd forgotten for lunch –

– one little girl who failed to appear.

Wearing an expression of authoritative domination, Miss. Swift had moved out onto the wooden step alongside her class in order to cast a beady-eye over their entry. One young boy who'd suddenly seen fit to start shoving another was instantly issued a severe glare and sent silently inside with a raised brow, while another, flicking girls pigtails, was about to be meted out similar instruction when a tall form stepped up in front of her with an apologetic smile and instantly blocked her pupils from view. She greeted him briskly,

"Mr. Cartwright,"

The response came courtesy of a tap at the brim of his hat,

"Miss. Swift,"

"I take it you're hear to explain Peggy's absence?" she began casually, ducking around him to narrow her gaze again as the last few stragglers scampered eagerly from the premises, "She's not ill I hope?"

Before her, Adam's expression promptly furrowed into a deep frown,

"Ill?" he echoed briefly, before turning fully to face her, the tone suddenly becoming serious, "What do you mean _absence_? My brother just drove her in."

"I'm afraid he can't have," Miss. Swift countered steadily, "We've not seen Peggy today."

"What?"

"Is your brother quite sure he dropped her off?"

Despite himself the question made Adam bristle just a fraction, as much as for Peggy's sudden disappearance as for the inference that Hoss was some sort of idiot.

"Yes," he clipped back sharply, "Quite sure. I passed him on the road back to the Ponderosa myself not ten minutes ago. I have no reason to doubt him."

Miss. Swift however didn't seem utterly convinced, her reply cool and not particularly helpful,

"I see," suddenly however, she was all action, whirling as two little figures passed behind her heading out of the sunshine and into the little schoolroom, "Jenny, Valerie – have either of you girls seen Peggy this morning?"

Stopping respectfully the elder girl of the two girls quickly shook her head, hair bouncing around her shoulders as she stood before their combined gazes hand-in-hand with her little sister.

"No Miss. Swift…is something wrong?"

"Nothing for you to worry about Jenny," the older woman replied with a semi-shooing motion before turning back to Adam, "I'm afraid it's as I said Mr. Cartwright, Peggy's not been here."

It was as tempers were beginning to fray on both sides however, that Valerie Baker removed a chubby thumb from her mouth and peered up at the adults before her with startling matter-of-factness,

"She went away with the red lady."

At once all eyes were on her.

"The red lady?" Adam repeated, watching the little girl nod as if the whole thing was simple and crouching down to her level with an intensity that nobody could have missed, "Who's the red lady?"

The answer was one he already knew.

"The lady at the s'loon. Mamma says she's a hussy – ," she broke off again quickly as Jenny gave her hand a sharp tug, better aware than her little sister of the sort of words not to be used in company; hussy most definitely being one of them. Adam however barely heard or cared,

"What do you mean she went away with her? Valerie?"

The little girl pointed solemnly across the road in response, indicating a spot on which nothing sat.

"In the wagon. She went away in the wagon."

"When?" suddenly it was Miss. Swift again, back at the forefront of the questioning and taking over as Adam's intense gaze suddenly spotted something lying on the ground outside the saloon. He only just caught the answer,

"A'fore school."

"Why didn't you say something!" Jenny hissed back hotly, clearly horrified by events but the anger diminishing as Miss. Swift laid a gentle hand on her shoulder,

"It's all right Jenny, this is not her fault. Valerie has done a very good thing by telling us. Thank you. Now, Mr. Cartwright – ," turning with the full expectation of finding him at her side Miss. Swift instead spun into a tall patch of thin air, whirling again until she found him, crouched down in the dirt, something clutched in one hand. Lifting her skirts so as not to drag them through the dust, she crossed to him as quickly as dignity would allow, "Mr. Cartwright?"

In one hand, Adam was holding one of Peggy's schoolbooks, her name scribbled across the front cover and its appearance minus its owner seemingly suddenly more disturbing than Peggy's earlier no-show at school. Briefly overwhelmed by her emotions, Hilda Swift took a breath and steadied her resolve,

"What are you going to do?"

Below her Adam was still staring intently at the ground, the suddenness with which he regained his feet almost startling her off-balance as he turned and began to stride towards his horse.

"I'm going to follow them,"

"But how?"

His tone was all business,

"The wagon was loaded heavily, it left deep tracks. I'll trace them as far as I can and work my way from there."

Pausing briefly as he swung up onto his chestnut mount, Hilda frowned. She was by no means a frontier-girl, but even the idea of following one set of tracks down the main street of a busy city seemed next to impossible.

"How will you be able to tell their tracks from anyone else's?" she asked, her bewilderment vocalising without her full awareness. Adam's face remained grim,

"Because if I'm right, that wagon won't have been on the road for long. I'm looking for a trail that branches off."

"But why?"

He didn't answer, instead swinging his horse so quickly she had to duck to avoid its head,

"If you see my father or brothers, tell them what's happened."

Hilda nodded keenly, suddenly sensing there was more to the tale than she knew about and the thought instantly making her glad too be out of the loop. As far as she was concerned ignorance – of the non-academic kind – was most definitely bliss. Instead she simply nodded wholeheartedly,

"Yes, of course."

As Adam turned and bolted up the street, his horses' hooves creating a fierce pounding that seemed to echo the mood, the twin figures of Jenny and Valerie Baker moved up close to their teacher, worry shining in both their expressions,

"Is Peggy going to be all right Miss. Swift?" asked the elder hesitantly, all eyes on the fast disappearing form. Swallowing down her doubt and nodding softly in response, Hilda placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Of course Jenny. She's going to be fine."

She only wished she knew it were true.

….

**Chapter Twelve.**

Ever since she was a little girl Georgette Riley had been attracted to the bad boy. The kind of men to whom a gun was the best way to solve any kind of disagreement, and who held the same disregard for the law as they did civility and decency. These were the kind of men Georgette liked; the thugs; the criminals; the ne'er-do-wells. Nobody else gave her the same sense of purpose and excitement that they did, nobody made her feel more alive and nobody made her feel more needed. The men she loved may have been men in every sense of the word, but there was a vulnerability about them too, a fragility and a boyishness that made her want to care for and nurture them.

Jem Collins was one of these men; sprung from an unruly brood of eight that almost instantly had been too much for their mother to contend with, and – if she was to be believed – had contributed in no small part to the early grave their sincere but ultimately impoverished father had found himself in not long after. Growing up under the brutal regime of his four elder brothers thereafter had done little to instil within him the commoner traits of self-control, honesty and lawfulness. He'd first fired a gun at the age of thirteen, taking out a squirrel and, perhaps more unfortunately one of his mother's jars of preserve and earning a pretty hefty whacking in the process. By the time he was sixteen he was thieving, and by the time he was eighteen he'd left home altogether, gaining his first kill just months later – in a particularly brutal bar-fight in some little backwoods sink-hole just north of St. Louis. Accidental, but it was what it was.

He'd first met Georgette some eight years later, in Virginia City, their first close interaction a matter of 'business', although in the end she hadn't charged him. She'd been more or less infatuated from that moment on, her 'love at first sight' meeting his love of manipulation, for which she was as convenient as anyone. During their long unofficial on-off courtship Georgette had lied for him, hidden evidence and misled the law more times than either of them could adequately recollect, and each time he was able to pacify her qualms with talk of their future, or the new life they were going to lead and a million other empty promises he knew she wanted to hear. In his less-than-reputable past Jem Collins had known many women – many indeed who had lied for him – but none, _none_ were as gullible and as easily controllable as Georgette Riley. He could have asked her to go to the ends of the earth and throw everything she owned over the side and she'd have left to do it without even a backwards look. This time, it was going to be he who didn't so much as look back.

Jem Collins had been lying low in a disused logging cabin for three days when he finally heard the rumble of wagon wheels through the clearing, bolting from the cot in which he'd been lazily draped and over to the window in the time it would have taken most folk just to swing their legs over the side. Ducking behind the tatters of the largely obsolete drapes, he turned his head just a fraction, placing one beady eye as close to the grubby little windowpane as he could and peering out beyond. It was Georgette all right, just as she had promised – although a good two days late. It was a fact that made his anger swell on impulse as he stalked towards the door. Crossing the ground at an impatient lope, Jem drew alongside the redhead just as she was jumping breathlessly down from the driving seat, barely even having time to contemplate castigating her before finding the saloon girl draped across him, her hair in his face and her arms flung so tightly around him that for a moment he couldn't even move.

"Oh Jem," she was breathing, almost in raptures, "You okay honey? I was so worried about you."

He pulled her off as briskly as he could manage, tone nothing more than a sarcastic sneer in response,

"Obviously not that worried. It sure took you a long time to get here."

She took in his attitude with barely even a sniff of awareness, turning instead back to the wagon with a defensive gesture.

"Took time sugar, to get all my stuff together."

His eyes narrowed almost at once,

"Your stuff?"

"Well sure," came the reply, Georgette turning back to face him once more, hands on hips and regarding him almost as thought he were being slow, "I'm coming with you, aren't I?"

It was the pang of desperation that really lit the fuse,

"No! _Damn it_ Georgette – !"

But she wasn't about to be denied, eyes widening in imploring desolation,

"But – but Jem honey, you promised we'd be together. You said – ,"

"_Later_!" came the hiss, venom-filled and almost disbelieving as Jem spun away from the woman before him to grip furiously at a handful of his own hair, almost as if planning to wrench it from his head altogether just to alleviate some of the built-up fury, "Later I said! I escaped _jail_ Georgette – _jail_. You think I'm gonna be able to make a clean break from here with you and all your stuff as well? You want me to get caught, is that it?"

"No!" Georgette gulped back with obvious regret, stumbling towards him and balling up handfuls of his shirt before burying her head into the dirty fabric, "No Jem I swear."

Again he pushed her away forcibly, fast seeing his chances for escape running away from him and instead leaving him with nothing but the prospect of the hangman's noose and the hysterical woman pawing at his clothes.

"Get up," he hissed, watching as she folded to the floor like a wilting flower, "I said _get up_!"

And leaning forward he grabbed her by one wrist and yanked her roughly back onto her feet.

"Jem!" she sobbed brokenly, "I'm sorry. Honey I just want us to be together, that's all…_together_."

"Well we can't!" came the snapped reply, "Not 'til I'm shot of this place."

Rubbing her wrist absently Georgette again stepped forward, face streaked with tears and a frantic pleading in her voice,

"Jem – ,"

"Shut up," but her sobbing continued quietly behind him, drawing ire for the last time, "I said _shut up_!"

As his hand whirled and cracked across her cheek, it was met with a stunned silence, for a second the only sound being the faint echo of his bellowed shout. Georgette stood before him, half-bent, one hand nursing her stinging cheek miserably, her heart feeling like it was going to break into a million pieces. Shakily she took a long breath, managing to compose herself enough to speak,

"You're right, you're right baby I'm sorry. I'll be quiet."

It was a response that made him draw a long, steadying breath.

"Good. Did you bring the stuff I asked for?"

A nod.

"Yes Jem. Yes I did."

His mood continued to even,

"Good. Were you followed?"

"No. No, I did like you said. I checked. Nobody followed me."

"Good," suddenly his anger seemed to melt away, and, sensing his own disposition changing he stepped up close, gently pulling away her hand and placing his own against her cheek with a delicate stroke, "That's good Georgie. I knew I could count on you."

"Always," she replied weakly.

Just as abruptly as the temper had levelled however it promptly rocketed again, as the sound of something shifting audibly in the back of the wagon caught their attention, Jem peering over just in time to see the covering move. He reacted on instinct, staggering backwards a few steps with eyes opened wide, turning to point with sudden accusation at the woman he had just moments before been caressing so tenderly.

"So that's how it's gonna be is it?" he asked wildly, wiping with his sleeve at a drop of spittle that had dripped down onto his lip. Georgette swung back to the wagon quickly, her look as baffled as it was scared,

"No! No, Jem, I didn't bring anybody!"

"So who's in there Georgie? Huh? Is it the law? _Is it_?"

"No!"

Then he was pointing again, gesturing towards the bulk and waving his arm so frantically she was half afraid he'd hit her with it again.

"Show me Georgie!" he commanded half-sanely before abruptly losing it again, "_Show me_!"

Georgette shifted towards the wagon in a desperate lurch, Jem's loss of faculty scaring her more than it ever had. She'd hadn't brought anyone, she knew that. Nor would she have, ever – as a shaking hand lifted back the cover however a new sense of confusion drew in, accompanied suddenly by an anger of her own.

"You!"

Jem however couldn't see the same thing she could.

"Who is it Georgie? Who is it?"

Peggy Dayton was cowering in the back of the wagon, eyes wide with fear and a look of total terror etched upon her face. Behind them Georgette could practically feel Jem twitching with apprehension, and, not wishing to take the blame a moment longer and desperate to appease the man she loved, the redhead reached down and took hold of the girl's hand somewhat roughly, pulling her quickly from the wagon and dragging her at a half-stumble until she was fully in view. Taking in Jem's shell-shocked expression she gestured to the little blonde sharply,

"It's just a kid Jem. You happy now? Still think I'm trying to turn you in?"

That however, was not Jem Collins' first concern.

"A kid? What the hell'd you bring a kid for?!"

"I didn't _bring_ her Jem," Georgette retorted hotly, dropping Peggy's hand, "The kid must've stowed away. She's been everywhere I looked the last week – how was I supposed to know she was back there?!"

Jem however continued to practically pulse with incredulous rage,

"You _look _Georgie! You use your eyes – damn it can't you do anything right?" he ignored her instinctive bristle of outrage, gesturing airily into the trees instead, "Take her back."

He missed her stiffen in sudden alarm.

"What?"

"You heard me Georgie – take her back."

"But I'm going with you – ," suddenly her voice was back at desperate once more, the conversation retreating back to its infancy as the redhead crossed the ground towards him hands outstretched once more. This time Jem caught them before they could envelope him.

"No you're not! You're taking that kid back or I'm going to kill her Georgie, I'm tellin' you!"

He couldn't keep hold of her for quite long enough however, and as his grip momentarily loosened she flung herself into his chest for a second time,

"Do it! I don't care! I just want to be with you Jem! I just want to be with you – ,"

"Get off me!"

It was too much, it was all just too much and suddenly Jem Collins' anger erupted like a volcano. With a roar so ferocious it could have belonged to something prehistoric, he pushed Georgette backwards so violently that she almost tripped, letting his fist follow the swing of his body and cracking her clean across the side of the face, sending her down onto the floor like a crumpled piece of fabric. It took him only a second to realise that his words were redundant. Georgette wasn't moving. She was out cold.

The surprise he felt caught him momentarily as he stared down through a red film of anger, and only vaguely comprehending what he had done. Fleetingly, he felt a sense of bewildered regret but then abruptly another noise joined the thumping heartbeat in his ears; a tiny little gasp of shock.

The kid.

Head snapping up suddenly his eyes locked fiercely with the wide orbs across from him, reading such utter fear and terror within them that he almost stopped again. As he took one uncertain step forward however, hand outstretched in an attempt at beckoning her closer, the girl promptly turned and fled, her step surprisingly quick given her diminutive size.

"Hey!" he heard himself yell angrily before even realising he had and abruptly throwing himself into a chase behind her, "Hey! Kid!"

If she escaped, she could ruin everything.

He needed to get that child.

….

**Chapter Thirteen.**

Peggy fled; her feet moving so quickly across the ground that she could barely control where she was going, instead moving on instinct at so breakneck-a-pace that she threatened to crash into the trees more than once, darting between and around them with just seconds to spare and breathing so heavily that she felt her lungs might explode in her chest – if her thumping heart didn't beat them to it.

She couldn't hear Jem Collins behind her, but that didn't stop the knowledge that he was there and the terror it brought with it. She had heard the way he'd spoken to Georgette while she'd been tucked under the covers of the wagon, the harshness of his tone making her shiver and his subsequent actions not having redeemed him any. The last thing Peggy had seen before turning and fleeing had been the redheaded saloon girl sinking to the floor out cold, Jem's hand still raised in fury and the sound of the contact ringing in her ears.

Abruptly as the floor gave way beneath her, Peggy tumbled earthward, the small incline dropping her heavily onto her knees, hands thudding solidly into a mass of sharp twigs and both the impact and the sting making her gasp in shock. But she couldn't stop, she knew that and so blinking away the tears of pain she stumbled up onto her feet and set off again, casting her head round in a frantic look.

The suddenness with which Jem grabbed her caught her utterly by surprise, the fierce grip of the bony fingers making her scream in fright and the looming face bending in close doing little to ease her nerves. She had no idea how the man had gotten in front of her but that didn't matter, because somehow he had and now she was in real trouble. Struggling like a rabbit in a trap, Peggy desperately tried to twist out of his grip, pulling back and leaning her full weight against the pressure but finding no give at all. Jem Collins wasn't letting go, instead seemingly content to stand above her panting breathlessly and wearing an alarmingly wide yet un-sincere smile,

"What's the rush?" he chuckled, the response dangerously out of place, "Where're you going kid?"

The fear overwhelming her Peggy decided to go for honesty.

"Home, I'm going home! I didn't see anything I promise! I _promise_! Please let me go – ,"

Jem was still smiling, by now so convinced of his own superiority that one hand let go of the squirming child to wipe with casual boorishness at the sweat beading his brow,

"Can't do that."

The answer hit Peggy like a sledgehammer, the tears beginning to prickle hard in her desperate eyes,

"Oh please! _Please_…"

"Collins!" It was a loud shout that echoed out around them, loud but firm, the tone controlled yet evidently angry. It was also welcomingly familiar – and dangerous, "Let her go."

"Adam!"

If Peggy had been glad to see the eldest Cartwright son at the saloon mid-brawl, then that emotion was infinitely increased the second time around. This time there were no drunken patrons blundering about slopping half-full glasses of whisky and beer; no writhing masses of fists and elbows; this time there was only the three of them, and this time Peggy was in real, unmistakeable, centre-of-attention danger. Adam knew it too, and it was the reason why – although he had his gun drawn and pointed squarely at the convict before him – he hadn't shot. Instead he kept his voice low,

"You've got ten seconds Collins. Now let the girl go."

The response came out as defiant as it was panicked,

"Or what? You gonna shoot us?"

Still gripped viciously in his hands Peggy stared solemnly across at Adam, his presence alone consoling her fears. Nothing would happen to her as long as Adam was around, she knew for a fact that he wouldn't let it – Jem Collins or no Jem Collins.

"She's just a child," Adam replied now, still low and even, "You don't want to hurt her Jem."

Unconsciously the convict's grip tightened,

"I ain't going back!" he hissed, Adam's attention momentarily flickering downwards and catching the involuntary wince on Peggy's face. He stepped forward instinctively,

"Jem – ,"

At the same moment he did Peggy suddenly twisted round, bringing back her foot and burying her boot heel hard into Jem Collins' calf. It had the desired effect, the wanted man simultaneously letting out a loud yelp of pain and dropping letting her go for a fraction of a second. It was all it took. Peggy was away before he could even process what was happening, his following lunge for her slow but accurate and only stopped by the timely intervention of someone hauling him backwards by the collar of his prison-issue shirt. A blow to the side of the jaw quickly followed, the force sending Jem tumbling backwards onto the floor in an ungainly cloud of dust and woodland debris.

Adam Cartwright was standing above him fiercely, fists curled ready for the fight and his whole body twitching with uncontrollable anger. Jem however was running on desperation, and in that respect at least, they seemed evenly matched.

Diving from the floor with a yell of effort, the convict ploughed straight into Adam's midriff, knocking them both onto the floor although the rancher found his feet first. Jem however was not giving up, and so he continued to fight like a madman, flailing legs knocking his opponent off-balance enough to allow him time to get back onto his own feet. Again he leapt at Adam, this time the force sending them both back into the firm trunk of a tree, the jolt jarring them each but hitting Adam hardest. A quick jab to Jem's gut gave him a few extra feet, followed by a quick block, Adam catching the convict's arm as it swung towards him and countering with a punch of his own, still hanging onto the shirt sleeve as he spun them round, waiting until Jem's back was to the tree before hitting again, the final blow sending the man's head bouncing backwards off the trunk and sending him at once into oblivion. Letting go of the dirty fabric in near-disgust, Adam watched as Jem Collins slid slowly down the splintering bark, his body folding into a slump on the ground, head lolling, eyes closed. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

"Adam!" twirling into a half-crouch just in time, Adam caught the small blonde ball as it careered wildly into his arms, tiny little hands gripping him furiously as Peggy laid her head against his shirt and began to talk ten-to-the-dozen, "Oh Adam, I knew you'd come, I knew it! Please don't be mad, I didn't mean to get in the wagon – only before I could get out again it was moving, and then Roy Coffee was outside and I didn't want to get into any more trouble and – ,"

Bending down fully so that he could see her face-to-face, Adam raised a hand to the little girl's cheeks, damp with tears and began to gently wipe away the wind-swept hair,

"Sssh," he soothed softly, unable to hide his grin at the relief he felt, "Just slow down," she did, abruptly, throwing herself into his embrace and letting out one shaky little sigh, "It's ok Peg," he responded gently, "You're safe now," only evidently that wasn't the little girl's main concern, and suddenly she was crying against him so brokenly, that he had to draw her back again so he could take a better look at her, "Hey now, what's all this?"

"Oh Adam," she sniffed, big round tears beading down her cheeks so fast that he was hard pressed to wipe them all away, "Please don't make me leave! I don't want to live with someone else! I don't want to leave you!"

The confusion on his face was evident,

"Leave?" he repeated with obvious disbelief, "Now where did you get an idea like that?"

"I heard you downstairs last night – ," she hiccupped back in distress, "You're writing to Aunt Lil, you – you don't want me anymore."

Despite himself Adam smiled, the confusion, distress and relief mixing into something complex and vaguely unfathomable,

"Peggy," he responded calmly, "Of course I want you."

Slowly the tears subsided, instead being replaced with the occasional sniff of misery,

"But – but – ,"

"I was inviting your Aunt Lillian to come and visit. I thought I needed her help."

"W-with what?" Peggy frowned deeply, not quite understanding how Adam could ever need help, let alone from her Aunt Lil.

Unaware of the exact reason for the little girl's confusion however, Adam continued to smile down at her gently, smoothing back her hair rhythmically with the flat of his palm,

"I thought you might like to have some female company – I know it can't be easy living with us and I felt that she might be able to give you something that we couldn't. But only for a visit. I would never send you away, _ever_," he emphasised before breaking off with something of a wry grin, "No matter how many saloon girls you go chasing after,"

Big wide eyes gazed up imploringly into his.

"Really?"

"Really."

And suddenly her arms were round him again, holding tight, squeezing like she might never let go. Adam let her do gladly, returning it knowing full well he could have done the same back and half-killed her in the process. The truth was he'd been scared to death, and the knowledge that she was all right – not to mention utterly confused – had instantly melted any anger he'd been carrying towards her for her recklessness. Which reminded him, Georgette was clearly somewhere and there was also an escaped prisoner still practically comatose behind them, they'd have to do something about that, and so reluctantly he broke the embrace.

"Come on," he started softly, taking her hand and straightening up, "We need to get him back to town."

Peggy, by now fully recovered, hovered by his side, eyeing the convict appraisingly and sounding impressed as she did,

"You really took it to him,"

"Yes," he replied hiding a smile, "But then he was threatening something very precious to me."

Peggy nodded quickly in response, obviously in full agreement,

"Yup. He had it coming all right, but – ," pausing suddenly as if considering a question that hadn't been asked, a small frown trickled across her face, "I thought you said violence was never the answer."

Adam blinked. _Ah._

"Well, yes…about that…"

It was going to be a long ride back.

….

**Chapter Fourteen.**

For the entertainment of the adults, Peggy, her dolls and Jenny and Valerie Baker had been busy preparing some sort of show for most of the morning; sheets had been tacked across the front of the fireplace, the table had been cleared away and unusually creative costumes had been improvised out of belts, tablecloths and feathers. Finally however, it was nearly time for curtains up.

Hoss and Joe had bagged themselves seats in the front row, reclining expectantly on the sofa and exchanging grins at the whispering and giggling they could hear backstage. Adam stood behind them quietly, arms folded across his chest and a rare sense of contentment in his heart. With Peggy's lifted spirits the mood at the Ponderosa had risen with her, not so much as a cross word having been spoken in weeks. Ever since the altercation with Jem Collins, Peggy had been an undeniably happier child, at peace with herself and, even though he hesitated to say it, settled. The infatuation with Georgette had well and truly passed, and, although she had never told them exactly why, Adam strongly suspected it had something to do with the saloon girl's actions the day she'd unwittingly led Peggy into danger. Either way the gloss had most certainly come off – which was a relief. Although Peggy's sudden gushing enthusiasm for Miss. Swift did alarm him slightly, obvious academic merits aside. By the time Aunt Lil had arrived with several old gowns for her young great-niece to use for dress-up and a few obsolete trinkets and baubles, the crisis seemed to have well and truly passed, leaving behind it something harmonious and complete. Nor were the Cartwrights the only ones to have noticed.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

It was Lil who broke through his careful reverie, the sound of her voice startling him, so deeply had been musing. Brightening slightly, Adam smiled back at her warmly,

"I think that would be over-charging."

Lil snorted quickly in response,

"I know you better than to believe that Adam Cartwright."

"I'm sure you do."

He wasn't exactly sure when his relationship with the older woman had become so comfortable, although looking back it was probably at the moment of Laura's death when they had both instantaneously become the most important people in Peggy's life – although it had taken them about a week longer to realise it. Now, with all the initial turmoil of emotion and grief set aside, they had become almost comrades, allies in the constant struggle to raise a twice-bereaved little girl, and each of them adding their own specialities into a mix that was proving to be not so unsuccessful. It was a theme that was clearly on Lillian's mind too, watching with something akin to happy sadness as the sheet before them briefly parted to reveal the children gazing out on their audience.

"You're doing a wonderful job Adam."

It was a simple admission but at the same time the compliment ran deep and Adam took it with pleasure.

"Thank you."

"Now," Lillian breathed suddenly in response, clearly deciding that the pensive mood was over, "I think I'm going to grab myself a seat for the show."

Threading forward into the room, Lillian was quickly reinstalled on the sofa after a brief reshuffle from Ben which comprised largely of him swatting at his younger sons and gesturing pointedly towards their guest until they got the message, the youngest sliding from the seat and finding himself a place on the arm. Rolling his eyes as if in bafflement at how he had ever managed to raise two such clueless children, he drew across the room to stand beside his eldest, arms folded and a smile on his face.

"Everything all right son?" he asked quietly, both men's eyes turned towards the impromptu stage-area. He was rewarded with a nod, genuine and easy,

"Everything's fine Pa,"

"Is that Lillian's opinion too?"

"For once, I think it is. She told me I was doing a wonderful job."

The revelation made Ben smile wider, not only proud that his son was indeed dealing so capably with the responsibility of Peggy, but even prouder that someone else had noticed. Putting an arm around Adam's shoulders, Ben patted him briefly,

"She's right. You are."

"Until the next crisis," Adam returned wryly, drawing a snort of vague amusement,

"What do you suppose that will be? Boys?"

"Oh Pa, please," Adam shot back quickly in tones of mock-horror, although Ben imagined the general sentiments were true enough, "She's just a kid, and since I don't plan on letting her out of the house again until she's at least twenty-seven that shouldn't be a problem any time soon."

The response drew a hearty laugh from the older man,

"Spoken like a true father."

Abruptly the curtain before them began to flap, and, as the room hushed, Valerie Baker fumbled out onto the main stage,

"Ladies, gen'lemen," she began with a sniff of indifference to the whole performance, "The show's 'bout to start, so sit down."

It was to the point if not blunt, but it made the adults smile anyway, Ben turning to Adam with a look of exaggerated concern,

"Better do as we're told," he whispered as they began to move forward to the armchairs flanking the sofa, "I wouldn't like to be told off."

Adam grinned back,

"Just be thankful that it's Valerie the merciless and not Peggy," he hissed before lowering himself into one of the chairs and sitting back just in time to watch the curtain drop.

As Peggy and Valerie – flanked by a veritable army of dolls – began their carefully crafted performance, Adam let his mind wander once more, eyes constantly glued to the little blonde so intently having fun with her friends.

There were times he wondered if he would ever be able to do right by her, and others when he knew he wouldn't, but generally he was filled with optimism. There would be challenges of course, and probably plenty of them, but in the end they would see them through. She was a smart, funny and resilient little girl and now she knew, more than she ever had done before that Adam was always going to be there for her. Always. It was a thought that made him pause, thinking events over one last time before smiling and settling back to watch the show. As it turned out, without either of them noticing, he had all ready become the one thing they had both been searching for. He was it;

A role model for Peggy.

End.


End file.
